Here is a little Supernatural fanfiction for anyone who's had Sabriel (Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels, specifically) at the back of their mind. Since I know some of you IRL, I've been too self-conscious to actually post the full story on my Tumblr account as if I'm some type of uppity quasi-professional pretending like my fanfiction is real literature, so I'll just post the links and a few tags for fellow Supernatural trash.
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Some more Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels content (part 31) for those who are still inclined to read, even if Supernatural is over. Iâll have to find a way to organize and tag this stuff on here; Archive of Our Own has it all organized chronologically. Thanks if youâve stuck around up until this point! I donât plan on stopping any time soon.
Logic told Gabriel that there was no reason to expect a linear recovery, and yet he found himself expecting it to work that way no matter the dictates of rational thinking.
The relationship between his near-humanity and his somewhat-angelness was a constant source of confusion to Gabriel - and everybody around him - but it seemed that Sam had recently come to the conclusion that a working knowledge of human biology might be helpful in the short term.
âWhen you breathe in,â he explained, âIt activates the sympathetic nervous system. Gets your adrenaline going a little. So - â
âI have no sympathy for my nervous system,â Gabriel interjected.
â - the important part,â Sam went on, ignoring the comment heâd probably expected, âIs to focus on your exhalation, which initiates something different - other hormones - to calm you down. So itâs best to take that nice and slow. That's your parasympathetic nervous system.â
âActivate parachute, got it. Free-falling becomes smooth coasting through a cloudless summer sky.â
âIf thatâs what helps you remember it,â said Sam, âThen yes, Gabriel. Pull open the parachute.â
âListen," Gabriel told him, "Iâm pretty sure weâve talked about deep breathing before, and I suck at it.â
âI thought it might help to get more specific about what happens when you do it, so that you know why itâs helpful. It helped me to learn about that. A lot happens to the human body when it gets like âŠâ He gestured vaguely to what was in front of him: Gabriel, still trembling from the taste of a nightmare at the back of his throat as sweat coursed down his neck and both fists spontaneously clenched and unclenched against the tangled blankets. âThis.â
âWell, itâs a good thing I donât have a human body, then,â Gabriel replied. âOtherwise I might be a mess.â
Sam tried to smile. âDo you - â
âNo. No, I donât really want to talk about it. Iâm sorry for getting you out of bed. Itâs just that I thought - â Gabriel shook his head and looked down at the bedcovers clutched between his fingers. âI was so freakinâ tired when I fell asleep that I was dreaming about being tired, Sam. Kept trying to get up off the floor of that cell and find you, but Asmodeus wouldnât let me, and I was too exhausted to pull myself to my feet.â
Sam nodded. Perhaps there was more physiology to be expounded upon with regard to the liminal space before waking waking, the crack in between that allowed for bewildered shouts for assistance, but Sam was tactful enough to withhold any further lectures.
âSo I thought,â Gabriel continued, determined to complete his explanation, âThat Asmodeus was in the room. I really did.â
He looked around. He couldnât help it. He knew it was foolish, but it seemed even more foolish not to check.
Sam frowned at him.
âI was admiring the architecture,â Gabriel offered. âIâve grown excruciatingly fond of this glamorized speakeasy you call a home.â
âOkay. I guess that's ... good. You want anything? Water, maybe?â
Gabriel turned his gaze downward again, debating whether to ask Sam to shift his weight so that Gabriel could properly pull the covers over himself. He decided against it: if he asked Sam to move, Sam might either take offense or understand the request to mean âleave and shut the door behind you.â
âChristmas crackers!â Gabriel hissed, pounding a fist against his own knee.
Sam looked horrified. âWhat are you doing? Gabriel, what's wrong?"
âI - â Gabriel tried to remember what Sam had said about breathing - parachutes, right - and tried to exhale, then realized he couldnât exhale without first exciting himself by inhaling, and came to the conclusion that the entire process was a self-defeating hoax. âI understand exactly whatâs going on.â
âWhat? Going on with what?â When Gabriel didnât answer, Sam pressed: âHas something been hurting, and you just figured it out, or - â
âGeez, you really are in doctor mode tonight, arenât you? I meant I know that Iâm not in danger.â
Sam furrowed his brow. "Is that not good?"
âWhat isnât good is that Iâve known that for months now!â
âIâm still not - â
âWhat use is there in trying to convince myself that Asmodeus is gone when I still feel like heâs next to me or waiting for me or on top of me or - Iâm starting to wonder if itâs worth the amount of effort I put into it every day!â
âI donât think itâs that weird that youâd have a hard time finding common ground between what you know and what you feel,â said Sam.
âI didnât say it was weird. I said it was pointless. Unless maybe Iâm not trying hard enough; but man - Iâve been giving this everything I have in me.â
âIt really hasnât been that long, you know,â Sam reminded him. âYou were in Hell for a lot longer than youâve been with us.â
âSo itâs going to take another truckload of centuries to bridge the gaping maw between what youâve taught me and what he did to me?â
Sam spoke carefully. âI didnât mean that. I was just trying to say that if you really want to focus on being rational, youâve gotta factor in that imbalance. The time you spent in prison versus the time youâd had without Asmodeus manhandling you - thatâs not a fair fight, so try not to be so rough on yourself about it.â
âExcept,â Gabriel pointed out, feeling his chest tighten against Sam's audacious refusal to acknowledge Gabrielâs failure, âThere was no gap when I had him breathing down my neck. I knew I was in danger and I felt that way, too. It wasnât unreasonable to be cowering on the floor. Things are different now - I know thereâs nothing to be afraid of, but my whole alarm system has short-circuited.â
âYeah,â said Sam. âThatâs usually how it works.â
Gabriel clenched his jaw and mangled the sheets in his fists again. âThis isnât funny.â
âWhat? Of course not. I know that.â
âThen stop talking to me like Iâm a cute idiot, Sam. I donât care how typical any of my behavior is; I want it to stop and youâre hearing something completely different. Just because youâve got the knowledge and wisdom to smile and nod like Iâm learning to walk for the first time - âOh, look at this; itâs okay, we know heâll stop falling even if he doesnât know that yetâ - doesnât make this any less exhausting for me.â
Sam looked bewildered. âI wasnât laughing at you. I was trying to help. To remind you that - â
âShut up, okay? I know. I know. And thatâs what makes it so difficult.â
âI just thought it might help you to know youâre not out of the ordinary for feeling the way you do - you know? I figure itâd only make me feel worse if I thought I was the only person to get stuck in the middle of what I knew was true and what I felt was real. I feel that way all the time. Iâm not trying to preach to you. Or laugh at you. Why would I do that? Iâm hardly in a position to brag about healthy recovery, am I?â
âNow youâre pleading!â Gabriel snapped. âI donât want to feel like I hurt your feelings in addition to everything else!â
âLook,â Sam pleaded, because he was guilty of exactly that, âYou and I are on a level playing field.â
âIt sounds like you think youâre better than me.â
âWhy would you even - I donât think that at all, Gabriel.â
Gabriel pounded his knees again, thinking about the nightmare still sitting inside of him, exactly as real as the pain that resulted from hitting himself. âWell, you are, so maybe I shouldn't bitch about it.â
âDonât be ridiculous.â Sam reached out and caught Gabrielâs fist before he could repeat the childish self-beating, the goal of which Gabriel felt might become clearer with each blow. âI wasnât trying to prove anything. Maybe I said it the wrong way, but I really, really, truly, honestly meant that itâs normal to feel stuck like this. To know whatâs the matter with you, to know whatâs real, and to feel something totally opposite. I feel that way every day, Gabriel. And I definitely wasnât trying to make light of it. If it came across that way then Iâm sorry. I really am.â
âOh, donât be.â Gabriel tried to extricate his fist and Sam let him go. He thought about hitting himself again, but it seemed ungracious after Sam had made the choice to trust him with his own hands.
Samâs voice softened. âListen, Gabriel: you really need to sleep. I think thatâs part of whatâs got you so on edge.â
Gabriel almost said, Oh, is the baby getting cranky again? Letâs put him down for his nap but instead replied, âOr maybe itâs the quality of the sleep itself. I mean, if nightmares were the only issue, thatâd make sense - I could figure that out. Maybe. But itâs the fact that my whole body is just flooded with the stuff.â
âThat ... um ... feeling you get?â Sam asked.
Gabriel understood his hesitance, knew that Sam had never been able to comprehend what this âfeelingâ was - but perhaps that was simply due to Gabrielâs ineloquence. He had used adjectives like âdarkâ and âwarpedâ to describe the tang that this feeling cast upon the world, had tried to articulate the deeply visceral flavor of ethereal horror that wrenched him out of the present and cradled him in the greasy jaws of memory.
Words, however, could not give shape to this feeling, even when Gabriel drew upon all his lifetimes of speech and his countless languages to try and force the feeling's essence into description. Yet it could not be coerced into the confines of vocabulary; it could only be felt, and only disgorged in the small horrible ways with which his near-mortal body was familiar: sweating; trembling; desperate, incessant vomiting when the terror would not abate.
In fact, Gabriel was convinced that this dark, otherworldly sensation probably was suggestive of neurosis unique to him. After all, Sam had never assured him of its normalcy. Maybe it was particular to angels, although he wasnât sure he wanted to question Castiel about it. More likely, it was a symptom of the grotesque wrongness that had metastasized in Gabriel the moment Asmodeus first laid hands on him.
âHey.â Sam touched his arm. âYou all right?â
âYes,â Gabriel answered hoarsely. âBut that isnât how I feel.â
âNightmare still on your mind?â
âNo. I ⊠I donât know.â Gabriel licked his lips. âMaybe I donât really understand as much as I like to believe I do. Sam - â He tried to meet Samâs eyes but Sam was still clutching his arm. He didnât mind if Sam touched him, or if Sam wanted to make eye contact, but in general Gabriel wasnât willing to do both at the same time. âYou donât think Iâm disgusting, right?â
âWhat? No. Of course not.â
âOkay, but I do. I think that Iâm disgusting, and I also feel like Iâm disgusting. Like - in the way that maggots crawling over a decomposing body is disgusting. Itâs not the corpseâs fault for rotting and itâs not the bugsâ fault that they feed on it. Itâs just disgusting for what it is.â
Sam recoiled, and Gabriel jerked his head up. I was right.
Samâs features had taken on the flush of anger. âI donât like that at all.â
âNeither do I! What, you think I was just spouting a poetic monologue? Itâs what I see, Sam. Itâs what I feel.â
âBut thatâs just ⊠Jesus. Youâre not like that. Thatâs a horrible thing to say about yourself.â
âThen Iâm sorry I said it! Look, youâre proving my point!â
âThatâs just such a - look - â Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
âPull the parachute, Sam,â said Gabriel, trying to ignore how fast his heart was pounding in response to the irritation in Samâs face.
Sam opened his eyes. âGabriel, I know you feel like youâre tainted or - or just bad, or whatever, but I hate to hear you talk about yourself like that.â
âWell, how am I supposed to believe it isnât true? Based on what happened to me in Hell, Iâm probably not that far off.â
âYou are, though.â
âIâm not, though.â
Sam stood up.
Gabriel scrambled backward, slamming into the wall and toppling the pillow from the lip of the mattress to the floor. He had a split secondâs regret - I could have used that for protection - and then several moments of quiet waiting, moments in which he was not sure what he did, moments in which he heard nothing and saw only darkness.
Then he heard his name, repeated gently over and over; he remembered where he was, and realized - with a spasm of humiliation - that what had felt like minutes probably had not been more than a few seconds. Both arms were thrown over his head as a makeshift shield - a fortress that had never proven effective against his attackers.
With arthritic slowness, Gabriel unfolded himself.
âItâs okay,â Sam whispered. âItâs okay. There we go. Itâs okay. Itâs all right, Gabriel; itâs all right.â
Gabriel nodded. He did not look at Sam.
Sam held out a hand, uncertain. âIâm sorry. I got a little - â
âItâs fine.â But Gabriel was suddenly overtaken by such a violent urge to cry that he lay back down, bereft of the pillow, and turned away. âI just - â
Sam waited.
âI forgot to activate my parachute,â Gabriel finished, and crushed his teeth together against a sob that jerked out of him like a seizure.
âAh - â Sam sounded shocked and unsure. âOh man. Iâm sorry.â
Gabriel knew that he was. It would only serve to make Sam feel worse if Gabriel were to vocally lament that he was terrified of giving voice to his deepest despair lest Sam lash out. Even if it was due to helplessness or to fury toward Asmodeus, Gabriel couldnât handle that level of fire in Sam.
"Here, let's just - let me, um - " Sam tucked the blankets around Gabriel's shoulders, taking caution not to actually touch him. Gabriel had come to suspect that Sam felt most at ease in conveying affection, remorse, and protectiveness through some sort of physical contact. Gabriel often made this challenging for Sam. In fact, he reflected as he felt Sam draw away, why should he feel entitled to refuse Sam the small comfort of touching him when Gabriel was the one at fault for misinterpreting a benign gesture of frustration - especially given that the gesture was in response to Gabrielâs complaining about his poor self-image?
âListen,â Sam said quietly. âListen, Gabe - I wonât leave, but Iâm gonna give you a couple minutes to calm down. Iâm here, but Iâm not going to hurt you, Gabriel.â
In the aftermath of the imagined assault, Gabriel was shaking. He listened to his own ragged breathing as he would have listened to a familiar much-hated song that played only because he was too unintelligent to find the appropriate dial to turn it off, while somebody else was forced to pretend it didnât grate on their nerves and politely wait for the closing notes.
After a few moments, the surge of fear began to soften and the bedroom grew more solid to him. He debated the benefits and disadvantages of trying to halt his tears. Ultimately, he decided, it wasnât a question of positives and negatives: there was simply not much use in pretending that Sam would have judged him after seeing it happen so often. The impulse to stoicism was there, as it always was - a costume with no remaining elasticity.
âI know,â Gabriel muttered into the damp sheet.
âHuh?â
He turned over, looking up at Sam. âI know that youâre not gonna do anything to try and mess with me. I really - I do. I know that.â
âThatâs good.â
âIf I could show you as much, I would. Instead youâve got me whining about my self-indulgent hatred of - â But Gabriel stopped, afraid to annoy Sam with additional descriptions of (as heâd considered saying) âthis cosmic garbage thatâs only ever been good for playtime in Hell.â
"That's all right," said Sam, although he looked pale and haunted. "Don't worry about it, Gabriel. Really. Just take it easy."
âYou can touch me,â Gabriel offered. âIf you - Iâm sorry.â
Sam shook his head. âYou donât gotta make anything up to me, Gabriel.â
âI donât want to get in trouble.â Gabriel gave a tight, nervous laugh. âIf you want to, you can.â
âNo. No, it's okay. Wait - if I say no, are you going to take that to mean I just think youâre gross?â
âI'm not sure."
âAll right. Okay. Well, what do you want?â When Gabriel tensed - he loathed the question, abhorred the word - Sam corrected himself: âWhat do you need right now?â
âIâm not sure," Gabriel repeated. "I just know Iâm sorry for freaking out.â
âCome on, you didnât do anything wrong. Look, you know me pretty well, I think - and - well, hearing stuff like that can be rough because I want to change it. Thatâs all. Itâs not your fault Asmodeus was such a piece of work.â
âI need to be more careful.â Gabriel smiled, fitfully, feeling delusional and uneven. He didnât know whether he wanted to come across as serious. âOne of these days you might actually get real pissed off. And whatever happens, Iâll have to take responsibility for not being able to control myself.â
Samâs eye twitched. âDonât say things like that.â
âFine. I wonât. Iâll think them, but I wonât say them.â Gabriel was beginning to wonder if he was being difficult on purpose. âI donât want to upset you; I donât want to make you angry at anyone; I donât want to make you sad when Iâm afraid of you.â
âStop.â Helplessly, Sam reached out and grabbed his hand. âYou can say whatever you like, Gabriel. I just wish I could help.â
âHey, you are helping. Like I mentioned, I at least know where I am. I know Iâm not actually in danger.â
Sam gave a tired smile. âThat isnât what you just said.â
âWell - then Iâm not sure whatâs wrong with me. There are things I do know, and things I should know. Maybe Iâve actually lost my whole-ass mind. I believe you, I think. I believe you donât want to hurt me. I just donât - I guess I figure that might change.â
âBut why?â
âWhy wouldnât it?â
âBecause itâs me, Gabriel. It's Sam. It's not Asmodeus.â
"Yes! And yet here we are!"
Sam gripped his hand more firmly. âBut thatâs okay.â
âIt really isnât. I need to be able to connect the dots better. For my sake, maybe, but for yours too. I need to understand things better. I need to be able to apply what I learn. Looks like Iâm screwing up both parts of that process.â
âYou need more time. Maybe a lot more time.â
âIâve had time!"
âSome. Like I said, you had a whole lot more time with him than youâve had with any of us.â
âI just - ah - I - â Gabriel wiped his eyes. âIâd just really like it to stop. I could do without the nightmares and without being scared of you or anyone else. And without feeling like a diseased animal stinking up the place. I hate it. I want it to end. Iâm confused about what to believe and what to feel and how to act. I donât want to hurt you and I donât want you to hurt me but I - but Iâm this thing, this nauseating, awful thing that he - that - and I canât keep doing this because itâs too much for me. I canât handle it. I canât handle knowing itâll probably take another eon before Iâm not running away from you, and by then you wonât even be here. And I canât handle thinking about that, either. I just want it to stop. All of it. I canât do this." He shivered and tried to remember to breathe.
"I know," Sam murmured. "It's okay. I get it. But you're gonna be okay. I'm here."
"You - " Gabriel shuddered again, feeling sick and exhausted and still plagued by the grotesque haze of nightmares. "You can touch me."
Sam squeezed his hand.
âNo,â Gabriel said, âI mean - â
Sam eased him closer, into a gentle hug that felt undeserved but not frightening.
Gabriel took a deep breath, came close to making a remark about parachutes, and decided he had better not speak.
Since escaping, Gabriel had had instances in which he'd seriously doubted his own intellect. Surely he had simply not been clever enough to break free from Asmodeus; surely only a truly dimwitted being would have gotten so lost in the post-infernal labyrinth between knowledge and experience.
Despite this uncertainty, he didn't believe that he was stupid enough to miss what seemed obvious: the safety he felt in an embrace like this was instinctual. Perhaps it was a rudimentary form of applied knowledge. At least in this moment, there was no need to berate himself into common sense - not when the privilege of a warm embrace, however unmerited, felt quite different from anything else.
For some reason Iâve become hesitant about posting fanfiction on Tumblr (in addition to Ao3), but I think people do read it here; so, instead of posting a link, Iâll just do what I used to do (starting way back in 2018) and share the entire text of the story.
For those of you still following the Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels series (thanks!), weâre on installment number 30. You can read them out of order. Someday (soon) Iâll find a better way of organizing the material so that itâs easier to find on my profile.
Thank you, as always, for reading my work.
...
Rowena showed up half an hour late at an establishment somehow reminiscent of both a dive bar and an extravagant restaurant.
âWe canât narrow down any individual witches,â Sam explained to her, âBut the whole area is being affected pretty much daily.â
âSo then,â she replied, âThe coven in question appears to be simultaneously powerful and aggravatingly diffuse.â She stirred her cocktail. âAre you quite sure youâve exhausted your resources? I understand that witches can be a bit of a bee in your brotherâs bonnet, given that our antics often call for brains over brawn.â She signaled to the waiter.
âYou know Iâm not paying for your hangover, right?â said Sam.
Rowena smiled. âBold of you to assume my constitution is as rickety as your own.â
Gabriel spoke up. âI thought we were here to discuss taking down some tight-lipped harpies.â
Rowena raised an eyebrow. âDonât be sexist. Any one of those troublemakers could just as easily look like either of you two.â
âWell, do you have information? Or did Sam agree to foot the bill just for you to make googly eyes at the bus boy?â
âJealous, are you?â She grinned. âSamuel, do remind me what this place is called.â
âYou chose it,â Sam pointed out.
âAye, but for its ambiance, not for its name. I had more than one place in mind: count yourselves lucky that I remembered a spot not so far from you.â
âWe drove four hours to get here!â
âI could easily have requested just as glamorous a venue nearer your prospective targets out west. You should be thankful, the both of you.â
âSleepy Cheetah,â Gabriel told her. âItâs the Sleepy Cheetah. I assumed you picked it because you look like one.â
âShall I take that as a compliment? Tell me, why arenât either of you boys out in Minnesota with Dean? Youâve got his chariot of choice, so naturally I had to wonder whether he was coerced into these witchesâ company, or if he decided now was as good a time as any for cross-country cardio.â
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, gathered his patience, and replied: âFirst off, itâs not really any of your business; but when I told him we were going to look to you for guidance - which, for the record, Iâm starting to regret - â
âHurt feelings, Samuel. Youâve bruised a tender ego.â
âWhen we suggested,â Sam went on, âThat you were going to take us up on our request, and meet somewhere to talk witches, but that you insisted on somewhere several hours from home, it made sense for Cas to fly him out there. Because we were going to need the car as long as Gabriel isnât - â Sam glanced at him. âAs long as Gabriel canât, you know - â
Rowena waved a dismissive hand. âNo need for diplomacy. I know thereâs still plenty of that road left unpaved.â
Sam sighed. âListen, I need to run to the restroom. Can you maybe just gather your thoughts, Rowena? Give us some actual advice instead of running up the tab?â
She took a slow sip. âAch, how my dignity does wither under the weight of such accusations.â
Sam stood up, lips locked tight, and walked away.
Rowena leaned forward. âItâs nice to see you again, Gabriel.â
âNice to see you too. I take it youâve been keeping yourself out of trouble?â
âWell now, I didnae show up to your party just to be interrogated.â
âNot even if I ask nicely?â
âWell, just maybe. In fact, however - â She leaned in closer. âIâve got a question for you.â
âAsk away.â
She grinned and brought her lips up to Gabrielâs ear. âWhat is wrong with you and why are you so keen to hide it from me?â
Gabriel jerked back. âDid Sam - â
âSam hasnât told me anything. Iâve been walking this earth and its many sister dimensions for generations. I recognize the signs of panic when theyâre laid out before me.â
âIâm hardly panicking! But you definitely talked to Sam.â
She held up both hands. âI did no such thing. If youâve confided in Sam, heâll be keeping it close to the chest.â
âThen whatâs your problem?â
âNo need for aggression, Gabriel.â
âYouâre looking at me like the nurses are about to pull the plug, so beg pardon if Iâm a little offended. And by the way, what counts as âgenerationsâ to you looks more like a holiday weekend to me, so think twice about your spidey senses before weaving a web for somebody that doesnât need to be saved.â
âI certainly donât need those spidey senses to tell that Iâve tickled a sore spot. Forgive me for feeling a wee bit concerned.â Her expression soured, but it struck Gabriel as performative - as if she expected that he would want to see a touch of bitterness in her face. âPerhaps I was out of line for thinking I could help.â
âYou sound as sorry as a kid who tripped the fire alarm before midterms. Go bite yourself, Rowena.â
âI suppose I should be flattered to have intimidated even an archangel.â
âOkay - â Gabriel straightened upright. âOne: Iâm anything but intimidated, and two: Iâd be able to turn you into a pile of potatoes and mash it if I was at capacity right now.â
âSounds sexy. Nevertheless, as a witch, I have to keep attuned to changes in behavior, whether thatâs to identify a threat or to home in on a particularly juicy weak spot. Youâre tense, Gabriel. I could feel it the moment you sat down across from me. You havenât even had a proper drink, and barely anything to eat. That isnât like you at all.â
Gabriel couldnât figure out why he felt defensive over this comment. âWhat am I supposed to make of that?â
Rowena gave a silky shrug and reached for her cocktail. âCould be youâd benefit from a pinch of introspection. Shadow-work, you know. Dip your toes into waters that have remained uncharted only because youâre afraid of what might be swimming in them.â
âNo time for snorkeling these days.â
âWell, donât discount it.â
This time, Gabriel felt sure he saw her expression change - but now she looked gentler. âThe strongest witch is the one with a private Rolodex of her own vulnerabilities. Come now, Gabriel - why so paranoid? Nobodyâs forcing you. Itâs just a tad disarming to see how much youâve changed since we last met.â
âI havenât - â But he paused. He both wanted to challenge the accusation and didnât, and struggled to understand why either response tempted him.
âSee what I mean?â asked Rowena. âForgive me for picking up on a little discomfort, Gabriel, but Iâm neither blind nor gullible. I know how to put a few digits together into a number that makes sense.â
A chill crept up Gabrielâs spine. She knows.
It was then that Sam retook his seat at the table and, apparently unperturbed, immediately began speaking to Rowena. âAny thoughts?â
She raised an eyebrow.
âAbout the coven,â Sam pressed.
âAh.â She drained her second cocktail. âHave you checked the cisterns?â
âCisterns?â Sam looked perplexed. âFor what?â
âAnd to think you look so promising on paper. The hex bag, Samuel. The hex bag.â
Sam blinked.
âThe Minnesota countryside is littered with abandoned cisterns,â Rowena went on. âAnd theyâre not exactly easy to access or visible to anyone whoâs not looking. Tell your brother to check there. Thatâs where I would conceal my precious cargo, but what do I know?â She met Gabrielâs eyes. âAll I can do is strive to be of service.â
âOkay,â said Sam, âGreat. Anything else we should know? Like, maybe, how to get into a cistern?â
âWhat am I, chair of the industrial spelunkersâ advocacy group? Itâs not as if I myself have ever hidden a hex bag there; I may have had a coven sister do so at some point, but I cannae recall exactly who. My memory has become foggy in old age.â
âBut you think - â
âI think thatâs where I would have concealed it, Samuel. I can only speak for myself. The town youâve described sounds like precisely the sort of region in which a cistern or well - in this case, the former - would color the intuition of an able practitioner.â
Sam considered, looking wary. âI guess Iâll suggest it. But if that doesnât pan out - â
âThen I suggest your brother get his hands dirty on a farm, but only a lazy witch would bury her ammunition somewhere so obvious. Worst comes to worst, you two could make your way out west to assist, could you not? Although, if I may speak plainly, Gabriel - you look like you could use a little rest.â
Gabriel tensed. Rowena, tactfully, drained her glass and pretended not to notice.
The ride back from the Sleepy Cheetah (âShe does look like one, doesnât she?â Sam said thoughtfully as they walked across the twilit parking lot) was silent for the first half hour. Gabriel considered pretending to be asleep, or actually attempting to nod off.
Instead, he told Sam: âRowena was right.â
Sam glanced at him. âHuh?â
âAbout me needing to rest. Iâm not tip-top.â
âWhy not? Whatâs going on?â
Gabriel paused. âI was trying to find an easy opening to a more difficult subject, which is that she was right about some other stuff too.â
âDonât love the sound of that.â Sam kept his eyes on the road. âWhatâd she say to you while I was gone? Should I not have left you alone?â
âIt isnât that.â
Sam waited.
âThen what is it?â he asked finally, when Gabriel didnât go on.
Gabriel shifted in the passenger seat. âThe first thing she said to me was that she could tell I wasnât ⊠myself.â
âWhy do you think she brought that up?â
Gabriel shrugged, although perhaps Sam couldnât see it in the darkness of the Impala. âMaybe she was concerned. Or curious. She didnât - I donât think she was looking to get a rise out of me, or anything else.â
âMaybe she was concerned,â Sam said. âI guess thereâs no reason she wouldnât be, if she picked up on something.â
âRemember how the satori read my mind, Sam?â Gabriel watched the shadows deepen outside the window. âRemember how easily that thing could get into my head? I kind of hoped that would thicken my skin a little, but apparently Iâm still as sticky as toffee, because she knew right away how messed up I was.â
âWhat do you mean? Whatâd she say to you, exactly?â
âShe âŠâ Gabriel considered how to frame the conversation. He wanted to cast Rowena in an insulting light, make her seem prying and taunting - but that didnât register as true when he thought back to their exchange. âShe asked me what was wrong with me and why I was keeping it from her. No - trying to hide it from her; thatâs how she put it. And she said I was âdifferent.ââ
Under the glow of a streetlamp, Gabriel saw Sam frown at him. âWell, you are.â
âYeah. Youâre not wrong. And neither was she.â
âDo you think thatâs a bad thing?â
âNo. Yes. No. I mean, I donât like this version of myself. But the problem with the old version of Gabriel is that Asmodeus didnât like it.â
âIâd take that as more of a compliment than anything else.â
âBut itâs not a compliment, Sam; itâs a threat.â
âYou know you were Gabriel then, and youâre still Gabriel now. I guess the main question is what that does to you when you think about it.â
âI took pride in being annoying. Asmodeus tried to beat that out of me. And the harder he pushed, the more annoying I seemed to get; and the more I realized that I couldnât stop being an obnoxious, needy son of a bitch, the less I could get away from it. And the more I hated myself for being that way.â
Sam sighed. âYeah, this has come up a couple of times, hasnât it? I mean - you not really wanting to give much thought to what you used to be like?â
âYes. I donât want to think about it.â
âWhy not?â
âI donât know.â
âIâm pretty sure thatâs why Rowena thought maybe now was the time.â
âBut time for what? Time to exhume the corpse of my pre-Asmodeus self?â
âNot necessarily. Gabe, I donât think that version of you is dead and gone. In a lot of ways youâre not that different.â
Several minutes of silence passed before Sam seemed to understand that he had said exactly the wrong thing.
Gently, without jarring Gabriel, Sam pulled the car to the side of the road. He was more visible to Gabriel now under the grizzled light of a streetlamp.
Gabriel didnât know what he looked like just then, but his chest was tight and the world had gone dark in a new way around its edges.
âGabriel,â Sam said quietly.
Gabriel turned his gaze toward the floor. âHe brought out something I didnât know was in me.â
Sam waited.
âRowena talked about the shadow-self,â Gabriel went on. âShe - I know itâs an old psychological concept, not strictly a witchcraft thing, but she talked about knowing her own weaknesses and how important it is for magical practitioners to explore what makes them tic.â
Sam nodded. âOkay.â
âYeah, um - so what do you think?â
âI think that would mean digging into some of the behaviors Asmodeus targeted on purpose to make you afraid of them.â
âWhy does it sound like you already know exactly what those things are?â
Sam hesitated for a moment, then offered his hand. Gabriel didnât take it, and Sam lowered it again before speaking. âGabriel, part of why itâs been so hard to watch all this happening to you is because I remember you before Asmodeus captured you. I think maybe I remember some of it more clearly than you do, because youâre so scared to look at the parts of you that he deliberately turned into sources of shame.â
âI donât know if I have any of that left,â Gabriel said. âAny of that version of me. Iâm afraid to ever become anything like what I was because he made it clear that there was nothing redeemable about it.â
âAnd do you believe him?â
âOf course I believe him. Because if I donât, then what?â
Sam leaned back in his seat. âYou think something would happen to you?â
âWhy would I think anything else?â Sam didnât seem to understand the obvious, and this irritated Gabriel. âWhat reason do I have to expect that it would ever be safe for me to be that version of me again? What reason do I have to believe that itâs not dangerous to ask for anything, or speak up about something?â
âWell, I like to think weâve given you a reason not to believe that. Or at least that I have.â
âBut - â Gabriel set his jaw. âDo you not - â
Sam waited.
When he was able, Gabriel continued: âDo you not understand how powerful he is?â
Sam slid his hands from the steering wheel. âNo, I do. I mean, I think I do. His voice - â
âNot just his voice, Sam. Not just the things he told me. Itâs been physically drilled into me that resurrecting any aspect of what I used to be puts me at risk. Iâm trying to be better than what he made me into, but I also donât want to be the thing that made him angry.â
âYou didnât deserve any of what he did to you, though. It isnât about what you were like. Especially not once he got control of you, and you did everything he said. I mean - not before that either. All Iâm saying is that if he needed an excuse to treat you the way he did, there wasnât one.â
âFine, but that doesnât change what actually happened. It doesnât un-beat me or un-scold me.â Gabriel blinked away tears. âIt doesnât make me feel any less small.â
Sam grimaced. âI know.â
âSome of what I did then - what felt so easy and natural to me - I have nightmares about that sort of thing now.â
âWhat sort of thing, exactly?â
Gabriel gave a bitter laugh. âThis is what she meant, right? This shadow-work schtick is all about getting your hands filthy, isnât it? Iâm talking about eating, drinking, being loud, taking up space. All of that. I could do it then and Iâm sure I have it in me to do it now because - well - â Gabriel halted.
âBecause what?â Sam pressed.
âI donât - I mean, I got the sense that - all right, this might sound crazy to an outsider looking in, but youâre not an outsider anymore, are you? For better or worse, youâre along for the ride, and - â Gabriel took a deep breath. âMy impression was that Asmodeus tried to get rid of it, get rid of me, all of me, all of what I was. And that he was rightfully upset when he realized that maybe he couldnât do it. That there was something he was constantly trying to kill, and it wouldnât die, and that was what kept getting me into trouble.â
This time, without hesitation, Sam gripped his shoulder.
âSo you see what might happen if I let go at all?â Gabriel continued. âI keep trying to squash it out. If I donât keep trying, it isnât going to die.â
âWhy do you keep saying âitâ?â asked Sam.
âThat thing I was, that thing he took apart to try and make into something better suited to his purposes. No matter how much Asmodeus hurt me, or how much he took from me, that thing - the thing that made him do all of that - it wouldnât die.â
There was silence but for the hum of the engine.
Finally, Sam turned off the ignition and shook his head. âI donât know what to say.â
âIâm not asking you to write a speech.â
âI ⊠â Sam shook his head again.
âGot water in your ear?â said Gabriel.
âListen, Gabriel, I think this might be hard to hear, but it also might help, so - donât you think you have come back a little? That some of your old self has come back to life? Iâve seen it. Everyone has. Not a lot of it, I guess, but youâre not that different from how you used to be. At least not in some of the ways that really count. Right? Donât you think thatâs true?â
âIn what universe is that observation meant to be helpful? Itâs making me sick.â
âWhat Iâm saying is that weâve seen bits and pieces of you come back and none of us want to do anything close to what he did. We like you. Even Dean likes you.â
âAgain, how is that supposed to be helpful?â
âAsmodeus tried to destroy you and couldnât, Gabriel. Thatâs something to be proud of, not a reason to hate yourself. Youâre strong; and thatâs terrifying, I know - because he didnât want you to be strong. Heâd swing harder if he thought he might lose.â Sam smiled. âBut the jokeâs on him, because he didnât exactly come out on top, did he?â
Gabriel turned to look out the window, into the darkness, because Sam had seen him break apart too many times. âGuess he didnât.â
âSo what do you have to fear from your old self? From your shadow side?â
âEverything. And even if he couldnât annihilate the worst of me, he definitely slaughtered a good chunk of anything else. I hate what I was, and I hate what I am. All I know is I canât remember how to not be afraid. I canât remember how to think of myself as anything other than an inconvenience or a germ. I do not want to look that shadow-self in the eye, Sam. I donât think I could take it.â
Sam squeezed his shoulder. âI think weâve needed to talk about this for a while.â
Gabriel shuddered.
âHey - â
Gabriel waved him off. âGoose walking over my grave.â
âIt isnât that we have to discuss everything right now,â Sam added, âBut, I mean - is it not kind of obvious to you that âŠâ
When Sam didnât go on, Gabriel closed his eyes. âThat what?â
âThat ⊠that you might be running away from yourself a little?â
âLike a leisurely jog? You donât ârun a little.â You either stand still, walk, or bolt. I donât know exactly what speed Iâve taken on but Iâm pretty sure Iâve started to run out of breath.â
âThen âŠâ
âWhat Rowena implied,â Gabriel told him, âIs that a witch is more powerful if she knows her own weak spots before an enemy does. I guess if I donât grab the past by the nards then Iâm setting myself up for disaster. Or, at the very least, for stagnation. Getting a little more upfront with myself about - I donât know. About me.â
Sam spoke cautiously. âWhat scares you about who you used to be, Gabriel?â
âEverything. Because Asmodeus - â
âNo, specifically. Whatâs so terrifying about it? About you?â
âThe things Asmodeus picked on.â
âBut what things? Maybe itâs better to start naming them. So that you can see we wonât get on your case about you just being yourself. It is kind of funny that this is coming up now. Because last week you were trying to go back to your old self, werenât you?â
âI - I thought it might make me look more healed. Guess I got a head start on Rowena. I was just sick of being vulnerable a hundred percent of the time. Speaking of which, please take your hand off my shoulder, Sam.â
Sam slid his hand away. âIâm sorry.â
âDonât be; I just canât handle any of that right now. Look, can we expedite this process? I donât want to sit here wondering what youâre thinking. Whatâs your take on all of this? On what Rowena said? On me?â
Sam considered. âThe fact of the matter is that you areâ - He paused again, choosing each word with caution - âoutrageously different from who we knew before you disappeared. Itâs always been bizarre to me that that guy could be made to be scared of himself. Itâs just - itâs just a huge change, and itâs hard to watch. But,â Sam added, âNone of it is your fault, Gabriel, and I hope you know that I want you to get better no matter what it looks like. If it means turning toward your old self, Iâd be the last person to judge you for it. No wrong way to be all right, you know?
âNone of us are going to hurt you for being loud or taking up space, or for needing or wanting something, for eating or drinking or regaining power. And weâre not going to punish you for being afraid, or crying, or whatever else you canât help doing or feeling while you wait to believe that youâre not in Hell anymore. Asmodeus didnât like the way you were, but why should he get to decide whatâs okay?â
Gabriel leaned his head against the windowpane.
âDo you want to be more like how you used to be?â Sam prodded. âI mean, when you think about getting better, do you have a vision?â
âWhat is this, a job interview? I just want to not be terrified all the time. And to stop breaking down - to get some dignity back. I guess itâd be good to have my grace up and running too. No more nightmares, maybe.â He looked over at Sam. âToo much to ask, you think?â
âSounds pretty reasonable to me.â
âI try not to think about it, though. About how I was. It bothers me. I donât want to remember being any of the things Asmodeus had blacklisted while he was in the captainâs seat.â
âBut specifically - â
âHoly mother mackerel, what do you want from me, Sam? A lot of food, booze, sex, hedonistic gallivanting. He made me feel like a disease for ever being like that. I told you, right, that he accused me of being greedy and wanting to fatten myself up? Just the flaccid tendrils of self-centeredness were - â Gabriel swallowed. âThe prelude to a beating, or worse. Where am I supposed to go with that?â
âForward. Just forward. Away from Asmodeus.â
Gabriel snorted. âSpoken like someone who understands how to walk a straight line.â
âIt must have tormented you trying to pretend like you were back to your old self.â
âIt was an experiment. One that fell on its face. I just figured you needed some PTO from my tantrums. Another of his favorite words, by the way.â Gabrielâs throat grew tight. âBut I guess I did throw the occasional fit, didnât I? In Hell.â
He was overcome by a vision of himself in tears, punching Asmodeus with weak fists in an indignant bid to finally obtain something of which he had been deprived: food, clothing, comfort, respite from the other demons who tormented him. Perhaps there had been a time or two when heâd begged for freedom, although he couldnât easily remember an instance when he had seen the point in petitioning for release. Gabrielâs memories mostly featured what he had thought might be within reach so long as Asmodeus occasionally deigned to provide it. There were instances when Asmodeus did yield to his requests, however disparagingly and usually not without some form of penance on Gabrielâs part.
Gabriel made a sound of disgust and covered his mouth, momentarily persuaded that he was going to be sick.
âWhatâs wrong?â Sam asked, horrified.
Gabriel gritted his teeth and allowed the moment to pass.
âNothing,â he told Sam. âSorry. This is what I meant, by the way. Little jolts of memory here and there making it impossible to function. I hate that.â
âThatâs happened to me before too.â
âBut as an archangel, I - â
âYou got hurt. Same thing couldâve happened to any of your brothers. Like I said, it isnât your fault.â Sam examined him more closely. âMaybe you should step outside and get some air.â
âNo.â Gabriel didnât want to explain how much he preferred to have some insulation with Sam in these moments, a closed den in a world gone thick and heavy with the darkness of his own mind.
He felt a sudden desperate desire to be back in the Men of Letters bunker. Without his grace, a handful of hours seemed like a much longer period of time.
âI wish she hadnât said anything,â Gabriel told Sam. âShe couldâve just as easily kept her trap shut.â
âWas she being nasty about it?â
âNo, and that pisses me off! She seemed concerned. She could practically smell how much Iâd changed and then asked if I was okay. Which obviously I wasnât, and Iâm not. When the satori got to me a little ways back - you remember - I thought, âYeesh, Iâve got to get a handle on this BS before anyone else gets a glimpse of just how fragile Iâve become.â For dignityâs sake, and because being the way I am now isnât - well, with you itâs safe; but there are other Asmodeus types out there whoâd be happy to play me like a greased-up trombone. And here comes Rowena, able to look through the squeaky-clean glass and watch me crawl around looking for a modicum of sanity. Itâs degrading, is what it is. Sometimes itâs like - itâs like, just shatter that damn glass and stab me with it already. Then maybe I can learn how to fight back. That would be a step up from pity. Even if someone doesnât want to do what Asmodeus did, even if Iâm not putting myself in danger by being so transparent, itâs still nothing short of humiliating.â
Sam looked disturbed. âI like to think itâs better than you suffering in silence. Gabe, donât worry too much: Rowenaâs a witch and can pick up on things most of us wouldnât think twice about. And she knows you, right?â
âNot that well.â
âWell - better than most.â
âThereâs no need to tiptoe like a prude. Yes, it was a little uncomfortable, okay? She didnât make it weird once she realized how scrambled my brains had become since we last saw each other. I donât want to talk about it any more than that.â
Sam seemed a little uncertain, but gave a nod. âYeah. All right.â
There was silence for a while. Gabrielâs shoulders tensed as he locked his gaze on the night.
âIâm not going to cry,â Gabriel said, âIf thatâs what youâre waiting for.â
âI was just thinking.â
Gabriel turned to him. âReconsidering?â
âReconsidering what?â
âGiving a little extra contemplation to whether you want me around,â Gabriel clarified. âIâm obviously not moving forward. I donât want to be who I am now, but I donât want to go back to who I was, either. I canât make myself make sense, and nobody needs that in their life. Puzzles are fun until you realize none of the pieces fits any other. Then it just becomes a mess to sweep up and throw away.â
âWow,â Sam said. âUm, no. Thatâs not what I was thinking.â
âAnd then comes the moment you realize youâve wasted money on a puzzle that had the potential to be entertaining. Money and time. So you keep working on it, just to make sure thereâs no chance of making it worth your while, and all that happens is more wasted resources - time, effort, attention, hope.â Gabriel turned his gaze to his lap. âPersistence isnât always the right choice. Not when things stop showing promise. You have to know when to cut your losses instead of chiseling the edge of each piece until youâve worn yourself out. The end result is going to look crummy no matter how crafty you are.â
âYeah, no, thatâs definitely not what I was thinking about.â
âOh. Good. Abandoned cisterns, then?â
Sam smiled, but it looked forced to Gabriel. âI was thinking about how youâre still hiding a lot, thatâs all.â
Gabriel set his jaw. âCanât a guy keep some things close to the chest?â
âI meant - I mean to say, youâre still not really letting yourself heal. Youâre fighting against it by telling yourself you need to move on and not be âŠâ Sam struggled for the right words. âNot be unwell anymore. You keep trying to take detours and dodge some of whatâs really holding you back. This is a good example, actually. I donât think you need to worry about whether or not youâre going to take up old personality traits. That isnât the question. I think you just need to be honest with yourself - and with me too - about why your old self makes you feel the way it does. And thatâs the hard part, because the reason is Asmodeus, and I know youâd rather not think about him on purpose since he gets in your head all the time anyway.â
Sam looked at Gabriel with worry in his eyes - as if, Gabriel thought, he feared his words may be taken as offensive.
When Gabriel didnât speak, Sam continued. âIt seems like youâre desperate to speed up the process of recovery. I get the sense that maybe you need more than youâre willing to ask for. You have gotten better - I canât say what it is, exactly, that makes me think that, but youâre not a - a - â
âWaterlogged jigsaw puzzle?â
Sam smiled more genuinely this time. âYouâre getting better, and thatâs good. Itâs great. But if you try to force things in a certain direction then youâre probably not going to get too far.â He shook his head. âI never want to push you, but it bugs me that thereâs still a lot you arenât willing to talk about, because I think it would help. I think - I donât know, Gabriel; I think sometimes youâre just as lost and afraid as you were when you first showed up, only you feel like you shouldnât need help anymore. That maybe you need ⊠I donât know âŠâ
In the pause that followed, Gabriel experienced the familiar creeping terror of Iâve done something wrong and the electric tightening of shame all across his body.
He didnât harbor any particular suspicions about what Sam planned to say. He only knew that the silence felt like a warning.
Sam glanced at him once, then twice - this time with alarm. âGabriel?â
Gabriel shut his eyes and leaned back against the seat, drawing himself together so that he could reply. But the panic that had come on so abruptly was an outside force beyond his aegis, a hand around his throat, so real and so immediate that speech was impossible.
âHey, itâs okay,â Sam told him. âDid I say something - â
Gabriel shoved the door open, stumbled from the car, and had a split secondâs thought of What am I trying to do? before crouching on the edge of the road and leaning backward against the front tire.
He felt stupid, but he was paralyzed.
Gabriel heard Samâs door slam shut, then footsteps on gravel. âGabriel?â
I think I short-circuited, Gabriel tried to explain, but he couldnât speak. For a moment he feared there really was a hand around his neck, or something inside of his body preventing movement or expression.
Either he had truly lost his grasp of the present or he was physically broken. Insanity was preferable, because Sam could help with that.
Sam crouched beside him. âItâs okay. Youâre okay. I didnât mean to upset you.â
Gabriel coughed, trying to clear the paralysis from his throat. He gave a strangled half-grunt, half-squeak that registered in his own ears as devastatingly childish.
Sam was quiet while Gabriel waited for the tension to soften.
By the time it had eased just a little, he was trembling and his breath was shaky. His voice emerged as a hoarse whisper. âYou didnât do anything to upset me.â
âThen why - â
âI donât know.â Gabriel coughed again, trying to clear his throat and hoping Sam wouldnât interpret the sound as the prelude to an episode of vomiting. âYou - I just - â The shallow breathing was making him dizzy, so he paused and focused on drawing in more air. âWhat is it you were going to tell me?â
âHuh?â
âWhat were you going to say? You said I needed something.â
âI âŠâ Sam had to think. âRight. Itâs not important.â
âTell me what it is, Sam, because I feel like Iâve done something to offend you.â
Under the light of the streetlamp, Sam looked bewildered. âYou didnât.â
âThen why were you so nervous to explain yourself?â Gabriel gripped his knees with shivering fingers, not sure whether his vision was blurred due to the state of panic or because it was dark. âJust spit it out.â
âWhat did you think I was going to tell you? Look - â Sam extricated one of Gabrielâs hands from its rigid, clawed position and held him by the wrist. âFirst take a deep breath and calm down.â
âEat me. What were you going to say?â
âI was going to say that sometimes I see something is bothering you and you need to get it out in some way but you wonât. You need to talk or you need to cry and you just wonât, because you think you shouldnât have to ask for that anymore. It probably isnât great for you to keep it inside. You know it hasnât been that long, right? I donât like how much youâre pushing and shoving yourself into what you think is the right direction. I know you told me to back off - â
âWhat instruction manual did you read? Because I didnât write that one.â
âYou told me to stop forcing you into making yourself vulnerable. So I try not to. Really, I do. I get it. But - â
âBut Iâm still doing this wrong?â Now that the adrenaline had kicked in, there were two emotions - fear and anger - blended into one. âI need to start keeping a checklist.â
âNo, thatâs not what Iâm trying to say. Thereâs no right way to get better.â
âWhat Iâm hearing is that there might be more than one right way, but Iâve hit on one of the wrong methods.â
âIf you use words like ârightâ and âwrong,â youâre going to drive yourself crazy.â
âOh! We canât have that. Could you imagine, Sam? Me, crazy? Every grain of lucidity justâ - Gabriel snapped his fingers - âgone?â
Sam sighed. âDo you want to get back in the car?â
Gabriel flinched. âSorry.â
âFor what?â Sam sounded exasperated now.
âI know Iâm confusing and petulant. I just donât want to fight this fight, thatâs all. Donât leave me by myself.â
âI wasnât going to.â
âYou sound - â
âIâm not angry. I - look - itâs frustrating trying to figure out how to help you. Because I do want to help. You know that, Gabriel.â
âI know you do, and I wish you didnât, and I hope you donât change your mind.â
âYou donât gotta worry about that.â
âNo, see, I take that as a challenge. What I heard was, âYouâre obligated to worry about that.ââ
Sam offered a wry smile. âListen, I never want to come on too strong. But sometimes itâs hard to gauge whatâs going to be good for you in the moment and what might not be the best thing to say.â
âIt does change by the hour sometimes. You have no magical compass directing you to the right move.â
âI guess I wish youâd just tell me. Tell me what you need. But instead, you shut down. Thatâs not wrong; I just worry itâs going to hurt you in the long run. You do need help. You should ask for it. I want you to feel safe.â
âSo what should I do?â Gabrielâs voice sounded small, once again repulsively juvenile and weak. He hadnât intended it, but neither could he have prevented it. âI donât know what Iâm supposed to do.â
Sam released Gabrielâs wrist and sat down next to him. âWhat are you afraid of? You know, whatâs your motivation when you make a decision to talk to somebody or not? Or to show your feelings? Is it that you worry weâll judge you or hurt you?â
âYes. Of course.â
âWhat else?â
Gabriel considered, let the night engulf him for a few seconds, and came to a conclusion of which Rowena probably would have approved. He could picture her knowing smile.
âI think Iâm afraid of getting better,â he told Sam, âBecause if I go back to anything like who I was, Iâm setting myself up for another round of Asmodeus.â
He half-expected Sam to express astonishment, but Sam just nodded, looking thoughtful. âWhat do you mean, exactly? Being captured again? Being treated the way he treated you?â
âBoth, maybe. I donât know. I canât get specific because the only thing I know for sure is that whatever was wrong with me is whatever got me into the pickle I was in. I donât want to be there again, and I donât care what that takes from me. As long as I stay away from whatever it was that he saw in me. Whatever it was he saw fit to play ball with canât have anything to do with me anymore; I donât care what else happens to me as long as I - as long as that thing that I was - whatever he hated so much - â Gabriel shook his head. âWho knows what might happen next? It might come from you or any of the others, or from another bloodthirsty troglodyte, or - hell, the way my senses operate these days, I figure it could just as easily come from Asmodeus himself. The risk isnât worth it. Except since Iâm not getting better like I should be - â
âNo, come on - â
â - then that, too, seems like a surefire way to incite some kind of punishment. You talk about the right way - or the wrong way - or neither of those things, I guess, since sometimes youâre so needlessly poetic - but really there are only wrong ways. Because itâs me, Sam. Thereâs no right way to be whatever it is that I am.â
Sam gave a bitter laugh.
âYeah,â Gabriel said. âIâm hilarious.â
Sam stopped laughing, then looked away from Gabriel to study the ground. âSorry. Itâs just - now and again I donât totally relate to what youâre talking about. Some of what Asmodeus did, maybe - and some of what you describe about the aftermath. When you tell me about that dark feeling, the feeling of everything being different and otherworldly and nauseating - I donât really know what you mean.â Sam looked up at him. âBut in this case, I know exactly the feeling youâre talking about.â
âHate that for you,â said Gabriel.
âItâs interesting, though, to see it from the other side. Not that I havenât run into it before - Dean and Cas arenât all that proud of themselves either - but that feeling of being a freak of nature âŠâ Sam swallowed. âThereâs something unique about that feeling. And I want to tell you how much it isnât true for you. That if you could only look at yourself rationally and see how wrong Asmodeus was, youâd be okay. Except I get how hard it is to convince yourself that thereâs nothing wrong with you. Not any more than someone else.â
âRight. Other people deserve good things; you feel like youâre the one and only exception, and if they could just get into your head and know that feeling of being a disease and a mistake - â
â- then theyâd stop trying, because theyâd understand that for you - â
â - itâs not just low self-esteem,â Gabriel finished, âBut fact.â
Sam laughed again, and this time Gabriel heard relief. âDoes that make you look at this any differently?â
âNope. All it does is bum me out that you wonât change your mind.â
âGood thing this isnât about me, then.â
âYeah.â Gabriel closed his eyes. âGood thing.â
âWanna head home? Get back in the car, maybe take a rest on the trip? Weâve got a little while.â
âYeah, Iâm âŠâ
Gabriel tried to say Iâm tired. Instead, he buried his head in his knees.
A multitude of terrors crawled through his mind. There were thoughts of who he had once been, the charisma and vivacity that Asmodeus had forced into obedience. There were thoughts of who he was now, buckled over on the edge of the road weeping silently and shallowly into his knees while Sam watched.
Worst of all, there was the understanding that Sam looked inward and saw what Gabriel saw in himself, and the horror of knowing that Gabriel couldnât do anything to change that.
He wondered if that inability spoke to his own powerlessness, his own worthlessness. If the archangel Gabriel couldnât make Sam see something so painfully obvious as his own value, it seemed he had fallen even farther than either of them had ever suspected. There was a special breed of frailty in not being able to change Samâs mind about this.
If they could just get into your head and know that feeling of being a disease and a mistake âŠ
But Gabriel was in Samâs head, because he knew that feeling better than anyone. He understood that that conviction was the most potent belief that torture could leave in its wake. There was no dismissing that feeling, no reasoning through it. It simply sat, content, as if it had always been there - as if it had always had a rightful and natural place in reality.
Gabriel cried so softly that Sam didnât notice what was happening until Gabriel finally raised his head to breathe more deeply.
Sam squeezed his shoulder. âHey, buddy, itâs okay.â
âIt really isnât,â Gabriel muttered.
âI think we should keep moving. We need to get you home. You need to rest.â
Gabriel wanted to be home immediately, and the thought that he couldnât have the comfort of his bedroom for another few hours was unbearable.
He didnât want to try explaining that to Sam. He didnât want Sam to see the desperate childishness that had emerged when Asmodeus gained control of him.
âCome on,â Sam said gently. âLet me - â He edged Gabriel upright, into a standing position, and let him lean against the door for a moment before helping him back inside the car and then reseating himself behind the wheel.
Gabriel hugged himself, digging his nails into either arm, once more swallowed up by disgusting visions of his time in Hell - of being dragged, held down, berated; of begging, pleading, and groveling; of screaming for help until his throat ripped and he gagged on his own blood.
âEasy,â Sam said, and clutched Gabrielâs shoulder again. âIf, um - if you need to be sick or anything, or you want to talk - â
Gabriel shrugged Samâs hand from his shoulder and seized it with both of his.
âI donât want to talk,â he rasped. âBut I - thereâs so much going on in my head and I think my last marbles are spilling out my ears.â
âIâll catch them.â
Gabriel didnât try to smile. âSam, I canât talk about the pre-Asmodeus me. I canât.â
âYou donât have to.â
âBut Rowena had a point. I need to figure this out.â
âNot right now. Not right away. And definitely not all at once.â
âI canât think about it without hearing him. Without feeling like heâs with me right here and now. I never want to go back to the way I was; I canât. Itâs terrifying. Itâs dangerous. I canât be that. I canât be any of that, ever again.â He began to sweat as he spoke. âI canât - â
âNo oneâs going to make you do anything,â Sam reminded him. âNo oneâs asking you to be someone youâd rather leave behind. But thereâs no need for you to get scared to death of being yourself.â
âEven thinking about it, about how I was - and what he did with it - it makes me feel like heâs here with me in the car.â
âI know,â said Sam. âYouâre shaking.â
âI canât help it. Iâm trying to stop.â
âNo, no, Gabriel - geez - donât. You can be scared. No oneâs going to punish you for this, I promise.â
âI know that. I know. I know that.â Gabriel wiped a hand across his forehead. âWhat would make you punish me, Sam? So I know not to do it?â
âI canât think of anything off the top of my head.â
âI feel like I canât breathe.â
âMaybe a sign to slow down and take a breath, huh?â
âI donât know. Maybe.â Gabriel inhaled, trying to steady himself. âMaybe. Sam, I canât be the way I was. I wish she hadnât brought it up. I wish she hadnât gotten into my head like that. She knows. She sees what he did to me.â
âI donât necessarily think thatâs true. She just picked up on a difference in your behavior, thatâs all.â
âI donât want to think about it. About me. About what made Asmodeus so desperate to cause me pain. And that was - that was everything about me. Thatâs everything I ever was. Ugh, I hate it. I hate him. Not Asmodeus - me. I hate him; I hate that Gabriel. And I hate this one too, but - but this one hasnât been hurt. Not like that. Not the way he hurt me.â
âWell,â said Sam, âThatâs probably because Iâm not Asmodeus, and I wouldnât want to do to anyone the things he did to you.â
âOthers, though. Thereâs gotta be another Asmodeus out there. There might be an Asmodeus in you.â
âMm, no, I donât think you need to be too concerned about that. Gabriel, are you going to throw up? You look sick.â
âNo. Iâm - I donât know. I wish she hadnât said anything.â It was as if he repeated it enough, Gabriel could unwrite the exchange he had had with Rowena. âI wish she hadnât mentioned shadow-work. Havenât thought too much about who I used to be. Itâs too much. Too much, Sam. I donât want to look.â
âThen donât. Not yet. Maybe not ever, I guess, if you really donât want to. Or, if you do, Iâm here.â
Clear visions scurried through his mind once more, flowering in bursts of sound and color. Greedy: the way he had begged for food. Selfish: the way he had implored Asmodeus to stop hurting him. Spoiled rotten: the way he had demanded a blanket when he became so starved that his only warmth came from goosebumps.
Whiny: how he howled in pain when Asmodeus cut particularly deep. Lazy: how he curled up on the hard, sticky cell floor and listened to Asmodeus screaming for more grace. Ungrateful: how he had vomited what food Asmodeus did provide after eating frantically, terrified of never getting more.
âHow do I look now?â Gabriel asked.
Sam squinted at him. âHorrific.â
âGood, then this wonât take you by surprise.â Gabriel leaned out of the car and began retching. His throat hurt, and he wondered if it was bleeding as it had when heâd screamed with such force and ferocity in Hell.
Gabriel didnât vomit. There was nothing to bring up.
âDamn,â he croaked. âThat wouldâve been so funny if I had anything in my system.â
Sam eased Gabriel back into the car. âHereâs what I think we should do: I think we need to start on our way home, and you should try and get a couple hours of shut-eye on the way. Rowenaâs right; you do need rest. You need to sleep, and when you wake up weâll be back at the bunker, and we can talk more if you want. But in the meantime, I want you to take a breather and let all of this go for the moment. Okay?â
Gabriel didnât say anything.
âGabriel?â Sam prodded. âAre you ready to get moving again? If you feel sick weâll pull over, but I think you just - â
âCall your brother,â Gabriel interjected. âTell him to get a move on and save that sad little Minnesota town from witches who have nothing better to do than shove their goody bags into rusty pipes.â
âAre you - â
âIâll take a nap. Just let him know what needs to be done and we can figure out how else to help him if he needs it.â
Sam looked reluctant, but he nodded and started the engine again. âIâll do that. Try to relax, Gabriel.â
Gabriel shut his eyes and listened to Sam ask, âYeah, hey, Dean - ever tried to get into an abandoned cistern before?â
He didnât think heâd be able to sleep, no matter how badly he needed the rest. There was too much to remember.
Oh look, I wrote part 29 of Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels.
Based on the following prompt from Archive of Our Own user PersonFace:
Gabe hides his true thoughts and pretends to make progress, and, to his surprise, he's good at it. Not, they let it go, not, they're not noticing, he's really good at hiding away, and putting on a face. Even Sam is fooled. Gabe is conflicted on how to feel about that.
I'll confess that some of this doesn't follow the prompt to the letter, but I did my very best. And of course I am sorry for how overdue it is.
âNo,â said Sam.
âYes,â said Gabriel.
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. âI told you, youâre not coming to fight.â
âI heard what you said, which is why I lied and agreed Iâd lay low. Thing is, I donât want to see you flop because you lacked the knowledge to keep from getting slaughtered.â
Samâs face softened. âYou gave us all the information you could.â
He and Gabriel stood alone in a motel room near the Uinta mountain ranges in Utah. It had been a long while since Gabriel had spent a significant amount of time out west, and indeed, they planned on being here for no longer than a few days. Dean had already left to start the car, and Sam was blocking the doorway so that Gabriel couldnât accompany them.
Gabriel knew that Sam had a point: since healing an injury on Samâs hand two weeks previously, after a witch and her miniscule but bloodthirsty familiar had attacked him, Gabriel had been exhausted.
Even so:
âYou really donât know much about these sons of bitches,â Gabriel reminded Sam, trying not to sound like he was pleading. âAnd Iâve seen them before; I would be able to take one on.â
But Sam held firm. âYouâve already done plenty to help us along, all right? You taught us more about the satori than Wikipedia and all the Japanese folklore books combined. We donât need you to fight; we just needed that guidance. Okay? You really arenât ready for this. And Iâm not saying that to try and make you feel bad. When youâre stronger, I wonât make you stay put. Promise.â
âIn other words, Iâd slow you guys down.â Before Sam could protest, Gabriel added, âFine. Youâre hardly off the mark, so fine. Iâll entertain myself while you go hunt down your furry lunatic. Remember, get a good swing in, and if it doesnât know whatâs coming then youâve got yourself an extra three seconds or so to avoid being eaten.â
Sam nodded, pretending Gabriel hadnât told him this already. âSure thing.â
âDid you meditate? Clear that noggin of yours? The satori feed on thoughts. Especially complex, contemplative thought.â
âDean and I both meditated.â
âLike I said: complex and contemplative. Iâm not as worried about Dean.â
Sam glanced down at his watch. âGabriel, Iâve got to go. But while weâre gone, put your feet up. Let yourself relax for a while. I promise weâll be okay.â
âDid I say you wouldnât be?â
Sam smiled, and just missed the raised middle finger cast behind him on his way out the door.
Gabriel waited for the engine to fade before he checked his pocket to ensure the room key was there.
Yes, he was worn out; yes, he was low on grace; and yes - he had enough sense to understand that Sam had been generous in allowing Gabriel to come at all when he was sure to slow the others down. Nevertheless, it was true that Gabriel knew these creatures better than Sam did: heâd dealt with them more than once when they had free reign over the Central Pangean Mountains, long before humankind could take advantage of any opportunity to mess with them.
Gabriel was familiar with what scant literature was accessible to the public these days; and no matter how many times he insisted that not only were these monsters more cunning than the Winchestersâ average prey, but quicker and more ferocious, neither of them took the warnings seriously.
âIâm not questioning whether you can take them on,â Gabriel had told them. âIâm just trying to get you to believe me when I tell you that you gotta prepare for more than youâve been able to read up on.â
âSo tell us more,â Dean prodded, watching him in the rearview mirror.
âI told you all I know! Itâs not like Iâve ever sat down to have lunch with one. But Iâve seen what they can do to humans, and âŠâ Gabriel paused, remembering. âA couple of times I was able to chase them off.â
Dean raised his eyebrows. âAnd the other times?â
Gabriel waved a dismissive hand. âDoesnât matter.â He didnât want to admit that the âother timesâ had seen him standing out of sight, watching the carnage and unwilling to get involved. âI just hope you had good reflexes in Little League.â
âWeâve got everything we need,â Sam assured him from the passenger seat. âPlenty of options in the trunk.â
âIâm not worried about what weapon you use. What matters is how fast you can swing it. The goal is to take the sucker off guard, not to destroy it.â
âThen whatâs the point of this trip anyway?â Dean demanded.
âSee, Sam? Your brother gets what Iâm trying to say.â
âAs long as we can chase it off,â Sam reminded them both. âLook, Gabriel - I hear you. We donât know how to kill it. So weâre going to immobilize it.â
âRight.â Gabriel sat back and closed his eyes. He could feel a headache coming on. âWith your fancy-pants spellwork.â
âRowena told us - â
âRowena knows how to chase them into isolated sprawls of water. They canât swim, and thatâs all well and good, but what happens after that? Did she do a follow-up study? For all we know, this could be the same one she took down all those years ago. You want me to page the coral reefs, see if they found a mangy corpse over yonder?â
Sam sighed. âYouâre just gonna have to trust us. Weâre doing the best we can.â
âI know. Thatâs why I insisted on tagging along.â
Outside of the motel, Gabriel halted, breathing in the mountain air. Not for the first time, he was discombobulated at the subtleties his near-graceless body picked up in a way it never would have before: the way this oxygen was thinner than that of Kansas, the chilly tickle of fall as background noise in the latter half of summer. These minute changes affected him in strange ways, altering his heartbeat and sometimes making him feel as though he was surrounded by unfamiliar presences.
He began walking. It had been a long time since heâd set foot in the Uinta Mountain ranges. Memories flickered at the back of his mind - memories that might have taken place prehistorically or may have happened a mere few centuries before. It was hard to tell sometimes which memories fell where, considering that his time with Asmodeus was a history in itself that felt both very old and very fresh.
Thatâs how it works when thereâs no end in sight, he thought, making his way down the road toward the mountains themselves, where he knew the monster would be lurking.
It was an hour before he got a text message from Sam. Nothing yet. Probably gonna be a few hours.
âCool,â Gabriel said to the mountain air. âBecause this wonât take me long at all. Good thing one of us knows what weâre doing.â
He couldnât recall the last time heâd been on rolling, open grass like this. Lebanon was beige; the mountain ranges were a pure, warm green.
He wished he could move positions the way he used to. It was conceivable that he might manage some distance should he attempt to fly, but there was no point in wasting his energy on that, especially since he wasnât sure whether he had the grace he needed to take this creature down. He couldnât remember having ever seen one killed another way; all that could be done, it seemed - at least for humankind - was to frighten the satori off with whatever object an unwitting traveler could swat at it.
What Gabriel had wanted to say to Sam, and hadnât, was: âIf itâs a choice between you getting clawed to death and turned into a meal and me taking myself out with a last gasp for grace, why are we even debating?â
Howâs it going? Gabriel texted, and Sam wrote: Iâll let you know when we get rid of it.
That terse reply, indicative of irritation (although Gabriel, sensitive as he was these days, knew he wasnât a good assessor of othersâ emotions), was nothing compared to what he would face when Sam found out heâd tried to tackle the satori on his own. The real upside to Gabriel not making it through this in one piece was that he wouldnât have to deal with punishment.
Samâs not going to punish you, something inside of him retorted, but he focused on taking one step after another. He was tired, but he could feel that his grace was present. Maybe healing Samâs hand had stimulated it.
Doesnât matter. Just gotta get this done.
When he felt the satori, his neck prickled and his heartbeat sped up. It seemed that his ability to sense unwelcome supernatural presences had either never left or been reignited at some point in the recovery from his time in Hell.
Or perhaps he was attuned to predators lying in wait.
âCome on,â Gabriel called. âEat me.â
All birdsong ceased as Gabriel turned around.
The creature stared at him and smiled.
âYouâre gross,â Gabriel told it. âYou look like if the offspring of Mr. Potato Head and an orangutan got its finger caught in an electric socket.â
The goblin-esque animal-thing only grinned wider. Its eye sockets were still and hollow in a furry face.
When it spoke, its voice was high and tight as if it had inhaled from a balloon, and the words came rapidly:
âThe blackness thickens,â it said. âNo one will be here for long; itâs all pretend. Not one of them wants you; not one of them cares. Itâs a good thing you came along to destroy the enemy: make yourself useful and perhaps theyâll let you stay. Ask nicely and theyâll allow you to keep stealing from them.â
Gabrielâs skin crawled. âWhat are you doing, you mangy freak?â
âIt has not been able to read your mind before,â the beast replied. Gabriel, who could only assume that âitâ meant the satori itself, could no longer tell whether it was actually looking at him or whether those grotesque holes were sightless. The horrid animal looked dead. âYou used to be an angel. When you were more than this, it couldnât get into your head. But look: is this not proof of what you have become?â
âIâm here to - â
âAnd yet if you use what little grace swims in your near-human flesh, what use will you be? Perhaps it is time; the hour has come to show that youâre a failure, and theyâll have the excuse they so sorely need to throw you away. It can eat you, too; if you are human, and it can read you, then it can swallow you as well.â
Gabriel stepped backward.
Chill out, he told himself. The son of a bitch is screwing with you.
âThe son of a bitch is not screwing with you,â the creature said. âYour memories - I smell them on your breath.â The satori cackled - harsh, like retching. âYou fear that he is still inside of you. Who would have thought that you, once so esteemed and powerful, might buckle? Paralysis maintains its grip upon the creature you once were.â
Paralysis indeed, Gabriel thought as he found himself struggling to respond with either speech or movement.
The creature gave its choking laugh again. âYou see? You are frozen. It knows. It knows better than anyone.â
âWrong.â Gabriel steeled himself for either overwhelming exhaustion or worse. He felt a pang of annoyance that he couldnât do this the way he used to. âNo one knows better than yours truly.â
The flash of grace hit the creature hard, and Gabriel felt some of it ricochet back to him. It hurt, but wasnât enough to knock him over. That came only after he saw the satori crumple to the ground, its eye sockets just as lifeless as they had been a few seconds before.
Gabriel found his face pressed into the dirt. Every muscle ached in a peculiarly human manner.
He experimented with standing up and found that, although it was a sluggish process, it wasnât impossible. He was dizzy but he could walk.
He took breaks here and there to lean against a tree and catch his breath. The birds had started singing again.
During one of these brief siestas, he sent a message to Sam:
I know youâll hate me and I donât blame you but I squashed the big furry toad thing.
A few moments later, Sam replied: Where are you???
Almost to the motel.
What were you thinking???
Gabriel didnât reply. Sam sent another message only a few seconds after that: We can find you if you stay put. Donât move.
Iâm almost back; calm down.
He could picture Sam closing his eyes and inhaling, trying not to show that he was frustrated.
Are you sure? Sam asked.
Yes. Chill. Iâll meet you there.
He didnât check the messages after that.
Gabriel arrived first. The motel room smelled like coarse carpeting and the salami sandwiches Dean had eaten in Gabriel and Samâs room several hours before.
Gabriel groaned and lay down on one of the two beds. He wished he could fall asleep then and there, but he knew he was about to be in trouble.
âYou didnât even take a weapon?â Dean cried when the brothers returned. âYou were just banking on being able to lasso him with possibly nonexistent angel milk?â
Sam strode over to the bed. âDid you really - â
âIâm sorry. I know. I didnât want you to get slaughtered by something I knew I could get rid of for you, okay? Sue me.â
Sam cupped his hands over his face and exhaled. âDid it do anything to you?â
âNo.â
âIt didnât hurt you?â
âIf it had, then my answer wouldâve been yes. Iâm fine, Sam. Iâm good. And I knew youâd be upset with me, but I would rather you be mad than dead.â
âIâm not upset with you; I just - you should have told me you were going to risk your neck like that.â
âWell, I asked your permission to risk my neck and you said no! What was I supposed to do, Sam? Whatâs done is done and weâre all still freakinâ alive, so go shower and stop yelling at me.â
He knew that Sam wasnât yelling, but to Gabriel it sounded dangerously close.
Sam glanced at Dean.
âHeâs an idiot,â Dean announced.
âCome on,â Sam snapped. âThatâs not helpful.â
âNeither was going after a monster without telling us first.â Dean glared at Gabriel before making his way to the exit and slamming the door behind him.
âHeâs worried, thatâs all,â Sam said.
âYeah, heâs all in a tither over my safety. I could tell by the way he tried to disembowel me with his eyes.â Gabriel shoved his face into a pillow and groaned. âI know, okay? I do. I really - I mean - look, Iâd be royally pissed too, but I was doing what I thought was best. Iâm not sorry for that.â
âI âŠâ Sam struggled for a moment, but all the fight seemed to have left him. âIâm glad you managed to pull it off. Just donât do it again.â
With an effort, Gabriel sat up. âIâm not interested in standing by anymore.â
âWeâve had this talk already: you donât owe us anything.â
âFine.â Gabriel flopped back down. He hadnât removed his shoes. âI just knew what had to be done in this instance. It canât be taken back now and Iâm glad youâre not dead.â
He shut his eyes, then felt the mattress sink under Samâs weight.
âIâm sorry,â Sam told him. âItâs only that - â
âDonât be sorry.â Gabriel kept his eyes closed. âI knew the reaction I was in for. As if I didnât run through this a thousand times in my head. You disowning me is more appealing than me having to dig your grave.â
âI wouldnât disown you. You know that. Iâm not mad, and if I was - â
âYou are mad. But frankly, I figured youâd be a lot worse than this.â
âYou really donât trust me, do you?â
Gabriel opened his eyes and squinted up at Sam. âI trust you. You obviously donât have enough faith in me to help you when you need it, though.â
Sam stood up. âMaybe letâs have this conversation tomorrow.â
âNo need. Go clean yourself up.â
âTake off your shoes.â
âToo tired. Not conscious.â
As he was drifting off, he felt Sam untying his sneakers.
There was little dialogue during the long trip home the following day. Dean was still tense, which surprised Gabriel, who had been ardently convinced that Sam would be furious and Dean would be relieved. Dean wasnât worried about whether Gabriel lived or died, and someone had taken care of his dirty work for him.
There was, of course, the possibility that Dean was upset over being denied a triumphant capture. But Gabriel wasnât particularly concerned about Deanâs feelings in this instance. What mattered was that he and Sam were both alive and well.
Gabriel slept most of the way home, and his dreams were full of eyeless beasts clawing at his face and digging soiled ape-like paws so harshly into his skull that the pressure became too much and he grew blind. In the nightmares, he tried to scream at them, but couldnât make a sound.
There was nothing he could do, because they already knew he was afraid.
He was stiff and clammy when it was time to climb out of the car. During the extraordinarily long journey (probably not so extraordinary for them, Gabriel realized), Sam had taken Deanâs place at the wheel and Dean was staring sullenly out of the window.
âOkay back there?â Sam asked.
Gabriel nodded.
âHere - â Sam made his way around back to open the door and help Gabriel out.
âIâm fine,â snapped Gabriel. âI can move on my own.â
He immediately felt guilty for his tone of voice, but the dreams wouldnât leave him.
âWhatâs wrong?â asked Sam. âHey, youâre all sweaty and shaky.â
âTired from using up my grace. Think thereâs probably none left.â Both halves of his explanation were true. There was no need to explain that the nightmares had made it worse.
He shoved himself out of the car and Sam reached out a hand to steady him. Gabriel stepped away before Sam could touch him.
âGabe,â said Sam, âYou look like youâre going to pass out.â
âIâm not.â
âI can tell when somethingâs wrong with you.â
Gabriel clenched his jaw. âIs that so?â He straightened himself and made a concerted effort to walk evenly and steadily up to the door and down the stairs into the bunker. He stumbled toward the bottom step and Sam grabbed his shoulder.
Gabriel wrenched himself away. âJesus, Sam, Iâll tell you if somethingâs wrong!â
âOkay!â Sam looked alarmed. âI just - okay.â
Gabriel ignored the shame that accompanied his outburst. Sam didnât deserve anybody shouting at him, but there could be no denying that he was right: Sam had seen Gabriel in various states of distress and knew what it looked like when he wasnât well.
He turned away, making for his bedroom; then he paused and looked back at Sam.
âI just need a little rest,â he said. âThatâs all it is. Iâm on edge, all right? But Iâll be fine.â
Sam nodded. âYeah. Go. Get some sleep. Iâll bring you something to eat later.â
âAll right.â Gabriel wasnât sure he would be able to eat, but there was no reason to make Sam more suspicious. âIâll see you later.â
He didnât look back this time.
That week, Gabriel made it a point to eat in front of them - especially Sam - at least once a day. He wasnât unable to eat, and mostly it wasnât a necessity; usually, however, he didnât have any appetite. Besides that, hunger made him feel guilty, and sometimes he had a hard time eating without an immediate recollection of being held down and force-fed during his time with Asmodeus.
If Sam noticed that Gabriel was eating more, he didnât say. Gabriel tried to let his mind go blank during mealtimes. Asmodeus often crept in, and he must have looked a certain way when that happened because Sam would frown.
Not one of them wants you; not one of them cares.
Gabriel forced himself to swallow, privately willing Sam to stop watching him, desperate for control over his own mind.
Is this not proof of what you have become?
Not even Sam ought to have access to his innermost thoughts and memories - not anymore.
Meanwhile, Deanâs behavior had settled into some semblance of normalcy. Gabriel had never been more thankful for his indifference; he had never taken such joy in the absence of intuitive empathy.
Then there was Castiel, who seemed mostly inclined to leave his brother alone. He sometimes looked puzzled - although that wasnât unusual for him - but he didnât say anything.
If Jack had any suspicions about Gabrielâs newfound stoicism, he didnât let them show. He was cheerful and inquisitive as always, and yet - maybe from spending so much time with Cas, or perhaps because he had learned neither how to express his compassion nor how to block it - there were times he too appeared confused, not sure what to make of his uncle.
âWhy are you looking at me like that, kid?â Gabriel asked him one evening.
Jack replied, âHow am I looking at you?â
âLike Iâm still brushing off loam from the uncanny valley.â
Jack didnât know how to respond to that, and the subject didnât come up again.
The four of them were sharing dinner one night when Gabriel made his decision.
âHey,â he said to the others. âYou guys all need to chill right the hell out, okay?â
Everyone turned to stare at him.
âEvery time I take a bite,â Gabriel elaborated, âAt least one of you watches me like you think Iâm going to burst into flame. Or tears. Maybe that was warranted at one point, but Iâm starting to feel like thereâs something stuck in my teeth and nobody wants to tell me.â
âYour teeth look fine to me,â said Jack.
âLook,â Gabriel went on, âI get that I kind of wore myself out back in Utah, but can you fellas please stop watching my every move with those confused looks on your faces?â
Sam appeared taken aback. âIs that what weâre doing? I guess I was just âŠâ
Slowly, looking him in the eye, Gabriel forced himself to take a bite of the pizza Dean had crafted. He had tasted it before, and although it was exceptionally good, Gabriel had a hard time with the richness of it. Had it been up to him, he would have steered clear of meals that were meant to make a person feel full. This was the first time in the last week that he had fully committed to this sort of sustenance; before that, heâd been able to get away with lighter fare.
The fact that Gabriel was able to dismiss the taste and weight of the food, that he was able to bring his mind elsewhere and ignore the spasm of nausea he had anticipated when he sat down, was encouraging.
âYou were just what?â Gabriel asked when heâd swallowed.
âUh âŠâ Sam blinked. âNothing. Sorry.â
âYouâre used to me being a swooning maiden,â Gabriel countered. âRight now I feel fine, and your constant inspection is nothing short of creepy.â
Sam furrowed his brow, but nodded. âAll right. Sorry, Gabriel. Iâm glad youâre feeling better.â
Gabriel took another mouthful, swallowed, and said: âWho knows? Maybe using my grace to wipe out the monster was just the kick in the pants I needed to get up and running again. I mean, hey, if I have it in me to off a predator from Jim Hensonâs fever-dream, maybe Iâm not in for the permanent misery that seemed inevitable before he and I faced off.â
Sam smiled, looking more at ease. âYeah. I guess that makes sense.â
âHey,â Dean interrupted, âYou including me in that accusation? You and I have been having a great time.â
âThatâs true,â Castiel agreed. He hadnât taken any pizza, but was enjoying the company. âIâve never seen the two of you get along so well.â
âRight?â Gabriel sat back. âSo what do you have to complain about, Sam?â
âIâm not complaining, Gabriel, really.â
âGood. Because if youâve got something to say, you can say it to me.â
For a moment he was afraid Sam was going to shout at him, although Gabriel knew that when heâd dared use that tone with Asmodeus, he deserved whatever response came his way.
Instead, he saw Sam further relax. âAll right. I will.â
Sam was watchful during the remainder of the meal, although it was possible that Gabriel was only imagining as much. Sometimes he thought he felt Samâs eyes on him, but when he looked over, Sam was just enjoying the food.
After dinner, Dean crooked a finger at Gabriel. âCâmere a minute.â
Gabriel followed him into the hall.
âWhatâs going on?â Dean asked, which surprised Gabriel.
âNothing,â he replied.
âLook, Iâm not complaining. I like you like this. But last week, before we left for Utah, you were afraid to ask for a napkin - and thatâs even if you took five minutes to eat without Sam practically forcing it down your throat. So what gives?â
âNothing,â Gabriel said again, wishing Dean had used different hyperbole. âWhy are you harassing me about this?â
âWell, maybe if I knew what I was harassing you about it, we wouldnât need to have this conversation.â
Gabriel stiffened. He felt betrayed. He had trusted Dean to be ignorant and unconcerned.
âI donât know what you think youâre seeing,â Gabriel told him. âAll I know is it isnât real.â
âMaybe Sam should be the one to decide that.â
âOh please. Whatâs Sam got to do with anything?â
Dean remained stone-faced.
Gabriel hardened his voice. âNo oneâs bothering Sam about anything. What, have you consulted him how to fix whatever imaginary problem youâve got keeping you up at night? Asked him how to rewire his favorite disaster?â
âNo,â said Dean, âBecause Iâd never hear the end of it from this new version of you.â
âWhat ânew versionâ of me? I canât figure out if Iâm being insulted.â
âLook, all I know is people donât change like this overnight. Not without a reason.â
âGood thing Iâm not people, then,â Gabriel snapped.
Dean shook his head. âLike I said, man, I donât know whatâs going on with you. Maybe itâs none of my business; I just figure you should ask Sam for help if something isnât right.â
âI - â Gabriel faltered. âYou donât want me to bother Sam about this, do you? Not that thereâs any - but if there were, if I was - look, no oneâs asking Sam for anything, okay? Thereâs no need, and if something was wrong with me, then he doesnât need to do anything. Poor sapâs done enough for every lifetime heâs been put through.â
âI think heâd wanna know.â
âWhat would he want to know? What do you think the issue is here?â
âWell, if I knew, I wouldnâtâve thought to bug you about it. But fine. Maybe my intuition is off.â He turned to leave, but then paused and looked back at Gabriel. âSam would never forgive himself if you felt like you couldnât tell him something, though.â
Gabriel stared at him. Then, more timidly, he asked: âAre you sure you havenât mentioned anything? About ⊠about whatever you think you see?â
âNo. Should I?â
Gabriel shook his head.
âLook, Gabe,â said Dean, âHe worries, but at the same time, he really wants to see you get better. He might be pulling the wool over his own eyes about this. If something happens to you and he thinks he couldâve done something to stop it, neither of you is going to be okay.â
Gabriel didnât respond.
âIâll see you later, Gabe,â Dean said, and left him standing in the hall with his heart beating twice as fast as it had been during dinner.
With static humming in his mind, Gabriel went back to his own bedroom. He shut the door and lay down on the bed, puzzled and frustrated by the sudden tautness in his throat. He ignored it.
He felt as though he had just been scolded, although he was reasonably confident that no such event had taken place.
Paralysis maintains its grip upon the creature you once were.
It occurred to Gabriel then that even he wasnât entirely sure what he was doing. He allowed himself a brief indulgence in the notion that Sam really was under the impression that, for the first time in months, nothing was so wrong with Gabriel as to require immediate attention. He wondered if they could be friends without the ongoing dynamic of victim and savior, although he knew Sam would have scoffed at such a description.
Then he considered the practical implications of remaining here when he had just taken such a hit to his grace supply. He had reason to believe that it would come back - he had been entirely without grace more than once, and it always came back - but the amount of time that would take couldnât be predicted. If he was to stay here, in the bunker, he had to have grace sooner rather than later. He remembered being without grace in Hell, and wished he could forget the punishment for such a crime. Now, in the bunker, he might not be penalized so much as âŠ
Well, uselessness was a punishment in itself.
The hour has come to show that youâre a failure.
Gabriel sighed and closed his eyes.
Theyâll have the excuse they so sorely need to throw you away.
No dreams, no nightmares, no tossing and turning: this slumber was quiet and pure.
But the next thing Gabriel knew, there were two voices calling his name; one he recognized immediately as Samâs, and the other took him a few seconds to identify as that of Castiel. He couldnât make out the words, and then he realized he couldnât fully open his eyes; they had grown too heavy.
Panic set in as someone lifted him upright. He didnât even have the strength to go rigid, let alone any power to fight back.
âGabriel.â Sam was speaking to him in a low, hurried voice. âWeâre not going to hurt you. Just wake up, all right?â
Gabriel wrenched his eyes partway open. The room was hazy. He took shallow breaths.
âGeez,â Sam told him. âGabe, buddy, we couldnât get you to wake up.â
Gabriel tried to ask, Why? but couldnât make himself speak.
âItâs almost two in the afternoon,â Sam told him, âAnd when I came in to check on you, you just âŠâ He trailed off.
âWouldnât move,â Castiel finished.
Gabriel leaned back against Sam.
âWhatâs going on?â Sam pressed. âIâve never seen that happen to you before.â
When Gabriel managed to reply, his voice was hoarse. âIâve fainted plenty.â
âThis is different. Hey, keep your eyes open for a minute; we thought - â Sam paused. âWe just didnât know what was going on.â
âTired,â Gabriel slurred.
âThis goes beyond tired, Gabriel,â said Cas.
âMy grace ⊠itâs âŠâ
âItâs what?â Sam prodded.
âDunno. I âŠâ Gabriel tried to ignore the pounding in his head. âKilling the monster, the satori - â
Sam and Castiel waited for him to continue. When Gabrielâs breath began coming a little more easily, he finished, âMaybe took some fight out of me.â
âThis is why I told you not to come.â Sam didnât sound angry - just worried, even afraid. âI know you were trying to help, but Gabriel, you were the one who said how vicious those things are. Youâre not ready for something like that.â
âThrough no fault of your own,â Castiel added.
Gabriel tried to push himself off of Sam and found that he was too weak.
âWhatâs wrong?â Sam asked him. âDoes anything hurt?â
âWhy?â The question emerged, at last, without Gabriel even thinking about it.
âWhat? Why what?â
âWhat goodâre you gonna get out of knowing whatâs the matter with me?â
Sam shifted so that Gabriel was lying with his head on Samâs lap instead of bent at an angle against his chest.
Castiel spoke up: âI suspect that Sam is simply trying to remind you that youâve become an important part of his life, and he doesnât want to see you suffer.â
âWell, whoop-dee-doo.â
âGabriel âŠâ Sam checked for a fever, then pushed stray locks of hair from Gabrielâs eyes. âI donât understand. You seemed okay last night.â
âIâm still okay.â
âThatâs obviously not true,â said Cas.
âCan you try and sit up?â Sam asked.
âMaybe.â He let Sam shift away and prop him against the pillows. As he watched Sam step back, face pale with concern, he had a momentâs doubt about his own pride.
Sit back down, he wanted to say, or I wouldnât want to touch me either.
He closed his eyes.
âNo,â Sam commanded. âGabriel, donât. Not yet. I want you to stay awake for now.â
When, and how, had this suddenly become too much? He knew how to frolic in lies. He knew how to make personal falsehoods into very real truths; pretending until he was no longer play-acting was a familiar process.
Why now, then, did he feel his throat tighten as he stared down at the blankets?
He was committed this time, though. He was well-versed in the warning signals of a breakdown and understood that there was no benefit in acting like a child. Sam had seen and dealt with enough, and Gabriel had debased himself so often that he couldnât imagine anyone harboring even a modicum of respect for him at this point.
That was fine. He needed to learn not to care so much about his reputation at the bunker.
âCas,â Sam said, âMaybe âŠâ
âYes. Of course.â Gabriel felt his brother watching him. âIf you need me, Iâm nearby. Although I suspect you know what youâre doing, Sam.â
âThanks. I think weâll be okay.â
Gabriel heard the door close.
âAll right,â Sam said, âI know you donât like to be coerced into talking to me, and usually Iâd let up a little, but if youâre sick you need to tell me.â
âIâm not.â
âThen what happened just now?â
âBeats me. But what do you expect?â Gabriel spoke more smoothly now, but directly to the blankets. âI used up all my grace on the satori. Can you blame me for being a little out of sorts?â
âNo, of course I donât blame you. But Iâm not talking about your grace. Or at least I donât think I am.â
âYeah? What do you think weâre discussing here, then?â
âI donât know.â Sam looked helpless. âYou seemed fine yesterday, and now youâre - I mean, how did you go from that to this? This whole week you've been ... I mean ... I don't know. I thought ... â
âAm I not an open book to you anymore? Good.â
âWhat?â
âThereâs no reason for you to be inside my head. Thereâs no reason for you to - to know any more about me, or what happened to me, than you already do.â
Sam was silent.
âI see through your strategy, Sam,â Gabriel added, still staring at the blanket. âI - when youâre quiet, you want me to talk.â
âIâm just worried.â
âYouâve made that abundantly clear, and I donât know what to tell you. I donât know what I can do to make you feel better about this whole thing.â
âAbout what whole thing? About you trying to get well?â
âPal, if thatâs what youâre looking for - for me to get back on my own two feet - then what are you complaining about? Obviously Iâm better. I havenât cried or thrown up once since we got back, and I donât see how thatâs a questionable development.â
âNo, I mean, itâs not, but - â
âBut what, Sam?â
âItâs not. Really, it isnât.â
In the moment of silence that followed, Gabriel felt such an urge to speak, to tell the truth and recount exactly what had happened in the mountains, that he tore his gaze away from the blankets and met Samâs eyes. He now had a choice: he could say something about what had taken place, or he could lose control of himself altogether.
If there was a third option, Gabriel didnât see it.
âI donât want to give you a whole novel about this,â he said. âMy head is killing me.â
Sam nodded.
Gabriel hesitated for a few moments longer. Then he took a deep breath and began: âWhen we were out in Utah, and I took down that creeptastic freakazoid, it - you know - it did what it does. It found some way into my brain, and yammered on and on about my every thought. Which wouldnât have been a problem in and of itself if I hadnât - if I wasnât - well, before, when I faced one of them, it couldnât read my mind. I was an angel and it couldnât get in. So what does that tell you, Sam?â
Sam looked blankly at him.
âCome on, Mr. Ivy League,â Gabriel pressed. âThis is measurable proof that right now, at least, Iâm more human than anything else. Plus, Iâve already got one monster in my head. I donât need another psychic bedfellow. You mean well, I know, but - but donât you think, Sam, that you being the way you are to me might be holding me in one place? Or making me an easier target, instead of building me back up to what I used to be?â
âIâve never thought that.â
âWell, does this change your mind? I just wrote you a whole thesis.â
âGabriel, if you didnât have any power then you wouldnât have been able to take that thing down in the first place.â
âAnd look at how that turned out. I can barely move.â
âThatâs because you havenât given yourself a chance to recover.â
âHow was I even supposed to know I needed it? Iâve been fine this last week.â
âHave you?â
âYes!â
"I sort of wasnât talking about the satori.â
âOh for the love of all things holy and unholy, Sam, stop being so dramatic. Iâve had plenty of time to tunnel my way out of this.â
âDid you get through the whole week without a flashback or nightmare? You seemed like you felt pretty good. I ⊠should I have checked?â
The guilt in Samâs voice made Gabriel wish heâd stayed unconscious. âNo.â
âIâm sorry.â
âI said no, Sam.â
âYouâre not well.â There was horror and distress on Samâs face now. âI thought - â
âChrist, Sam, relax.â
âWhy didnât you - â
âBecause this is on me, Sam! It always has been. And thatâs almost beside the point. Geez, you know - you really need to make up your mind. Am I meant to improve by eating more and learning to calm myself down, or am I supposed to hold you like a security blanket every time my engine misfires? Which is it, Sam? Should I be strengthening the muscles that Asmodeus deflated or should I keep letting you man the ship when a storm kicks in?â
âGabriel âŠâ
âAnswer the question. Iâm serious. I canât solve this equation no matter how creative I get with it. What am I supposed to do? For me, for you, for everyone here? I need an answer and maybe you have it. I sure as all get-out have no idea what Iâm supposed to do or where Iâm supposed to go without messing something up.â
Gabriel thought Sam looked like he might cry. âI guess it depends.â
âNo, see, thatâs not how this works. Because if this was a case-by-case endeavor, one of us would have found the balance by now. No, Sam, I donât feel good. Whyâs that? I donât feel good when Iâm alone; I donât feel good about how I act when you step in. Thereâs no winning for me, and for you thereâs just constant sacrifice that never leads anywhere. Thereâs a right and a wrong answer here, and if neither of us can figure it out, then I donât know what to do. Just stop it.â
âStop what?â
âStop - stop trying to make me showcase my emotions. Maybe it works for you but it doesnât lead to anything good for me; all it does is make me feel ashamed.â
Sam seemed at a loss for words. âIâm sorry,â he offered. âIâm not trying to make you do anything. Gabriel, I think you should just do what feels natural. If that means pretending everythingâs okay, then - then fine, I guess, except I donât think thatâs what you really want.â
âWell, I donât know what I want; as far as Iâm concerned, I donât want anything except to be more like an angel and less like a toddler.â
âI donât think of you that way. You know that, Gabriel.â
âSure, fine, but letâs not sugarcoat the fact that I am the way I am, and the responsibility is on me to change.â
Sam looked away, contemplating. Then he asked, âWhy didnât you tell me about what happened with the satori?â
âBecause then I wouldâve gotten worked up about it and so would you. You wouldâve been worried about me.â
âIâm worried about you anyway.â
âYup, I missed the mark on that one. What else is new?â
âSo you think - â
Gabriel shoved himself properly upright. âStop it, Sam! For the love of every damn good thing left in this world, just stop it! Stop trying to coach me into a breakdown!â
Sam looked aghast. âIâm not!â
âSo what are you after? You want to help? Do you want to keep me in one piece or break me into a thousand? I never know with you anymore; it - â Gabriel took a shuddering breath and began to cry. âYou know exactly what youâre doing. Iâm not here for you to play with me, Sam!â
Sam stood up. âGabriel - â
âIs this what you want?â Gabriel raised his face so that Sam could see the tears. âYou think that bullying me into showing my feelings is going to lead to success? I donât like myself like this! I donât want you to see and you keep on trying to open me up just like he did! Stop it, Sam! Stop it!â
âNo, no - hey - â Helplessly, Sam took his hand and Gabriel tore it away. âI - Gabriel - should I get Castiel?â
âNo!â
âI donât want you to be alone.â
âNeither do I!â Gabriel pounded the mattress with his fist. âSo stay, because I need you here, and I hate you for that and I hate me for that too. I hate all of this!â
âI know you do.â Samâs voice shook. âBut you havenât done anything wrong. Maybe I have; I donât know. But none of this is your fault. Iâm so sorry if I messed up.â
âYou didnât! I did! I donât know! Stop it!â Gabriel took frantic breaths, tasting salt where the tears met his lips.
âYou said I was like him.â Sam sounded weak. âIf I ever made you feel that way, it was an accident.â
âYouâre not like him; you - youâre trying to do something to me, and so was he, and I donât know how to tell the difference between you pushing me to bleed out in front of you and him ripping me open with his bare hands!â
âI had no idea thatâs what I was doing!â
âBecause youâre - Sam, youâre - â Gabriel found himself unable to breathe for a moment. When he managed it again, he said, âYouâre not evil.â
That seemed to perplex Sam. âI hope not.â
âOf course you arenât. But do you have any idea what that does to me?â
âI ⊠no, I guess I donât.â
Gabriel didnât know either. He ground his teeth against the urge to scream.
No one will be here for long; itâs all pretend.
âI wasnât like this before,â he said.
âThatâs because you werenât trapped in Hell before.â
âYouâve been trapped in Hell! And youâre nothing like this! Talk all day about how you need help, about how you have your bad dreams and your breakdowns - but youâre nothing like this, nothing like what I turned into.â
Not one of them wants you.
âThat thing knew,â Gabriel wailed. âThat thing knew exactly what I believe, exactly what Iâm afraid of; that thing got into my head in a way even I canât get into my head! I donât have any control anymore, Sam - none.â
Not one of them wants you.
âThat creature thought I was human, Sam,â Gabriel whispered. âFeeding on your kindness hasnât done anything except squash me.â
Not one of them wants you.
âI know I canât really understand what itâs like, exactly,â said Sam, âBut what scares you so bad about being human? Especially if you know you arenât, and your grace always comes back - even itâs on the slower side.â
Gabriel shook his head. âItâs not about the grace.â He swiped at his cheeks with his palms. âItâs about this.â
âAbout âŠâ
Gabriel looked at him. âDo you know, and youâre just trying to get me to say it?â
âNo! Iâm not trying to make you say anything.â
Gabriel wasnât sure he believed him, but lacked the energy to argue. âWell, then itâs about - itâs about the stuff in my head, and how I seem to be open season for anyone who wants a shot, for better or worse. In your case, itâs for the better; you donât want to hurt me, or at least I donât think you do. But you still know. You still see inside of me, and Iâd give anything at all for a little emotional opacity. Iâm weak, maybe as weak as I was in Hell.â
âNo.â
âAt least in my stupid cage I had a consistent idea of what the next day might bring. I anticipated chaos. Heâd destroyed me, on purpose, for fun - so after a little while, I didnât have to pretend I was holding myself together. Giving up the effort was easy enough; I had no choice. Well - no - unless I did have a choice, and made the wrong one. But he had power over me and I was used to being hurt. I didnât have to play at not being vulnerable. Itâs not like that anymore, Sam.â
âShouldnât that be a good thing?â
âYouâd expect so, wouldnât you? Me too. Iâve lost track of whatâs good and whatâs bad. So itâs not my grace Iâm worried about. Or - no, thatâs not true. I do worry about my grace, because I donât know what the heck Iâm supposed to be without it. Itâs more like - itâs that worrying about my grace is almost a luxury right now. If I get to lose sleep over how much grace I have instead of how easily I get scared and lose control of myself, I count myself lucky.â
Sam frowned, trying to grasp what Gabriel was telling him.
Sometimes Sam understood, and sometimes he couldnât relate. In this case, Gabriel suspected, Sam was at a loss because at no point in his life had he ever known genuine autonomy. With Gabriel, it was different: independence and secrecy were everything to him.
âIâm sorry,â Gabriel muttered. âI know I donât make this easy for you.â
Sam was silent for a moment longer, then asked: âCan I tell you something?â
Gabriel froze. This wasnât the first time heâd become immobile over the possibility of Sam explaining that no, he really couldnât do this anymore. Perhaps this was the paralysis to which the satori had referred.
âItâs nothing bad,â Sam added hastily, in yet another demonstration of how naturally he could read Gabriel. âI just wanted to say that I donât look down on you for being affected by your time with Asmodeus. Of course you freak out sometimes; who wouldnât? And donât say anything about me," he added as Gabriel opened his mouth. "Iâve been out of Hell a lot longer than you, and you were gone for so long ⊠thereâs a lot you didnât see.â Bitterness crept into Samâs voice. âAnyway, you canât help what this has done to you. But hey, you know who would judge you for struggling? Asmodeus. Not me. Not any of us, but especially not me.â
Gabriel tried to respond, but there was no way to speak around the tightness in his throat and chest. The sincerity in Samâs voice hurt him.
Finally, he managed: âYou set that up to sound so dramatic.â
Sam smiled. âSorry.â
Neither of them spoke for a while after that, although the break in conversation felt natural, not awkward.
Gabriel was fighting sleep when Sam broke the silence. âYouâre convincing, you know that?â
âIâm what?â
âThe way you just ⊠slipped into your old role. I was surprised, but it didnât seem forced. The way you spoke up for yourself at dinner last night was impressive. Normally you wouldâve been scared of getting in trouble.â
âHm.â Gabriel considered. âWell, Iâve said it before, Sam: I donât know who or what I was before Asmodeus. Something changed; thatâs all I can tell you.â
âAnd I was thinking - you know, even before we got back from the mountains, I saw something different. You pushed to come, and then you broke your promise about staying in the motel. I donât know, maybe Iâm off, but thatâs a decision you might not have made before.â
âIt was important. If something happened to you because I was too afraid to help, that wouldâve been punishment on its own. It was a no-win situation so I took the option that I knew would keep you alive.â
âBut you probably werenât so sure about whether you would come out okay.â There was no accusation in Samâs voice; he was merely making an observation.
âNo,â Gabriel agreed, âI didnât.â
Sam went on, âAnd it says something, doesnât it, that you were able to put on such a good act? Thatâs an old talent that maybe you havenât tapped into in a while.â
âIt must not have been as good as you say, because your brother picked up on it somehow.â
Sam looked surprised. âWhen?â
âLast night he cornered me about how it isnât standard to switch from empty to full in such a short span of time. Said I should go to you if I needed help.â
âWow." Sam blinked. "I guess I donât really know what to make of that.â
âWell, to me it means that some lucky winner always has access to my cesspit of a brain. Whether thatâs you, or Dean, or Asmodeus, or a mountain-dwelling monster.â
âOh geez, Gabriel âŠâ Sam reached out to squeeze his shoulder. âItâs not like that, buddy.â
âOf course it is. Everybody gets a piece of me if they want it.â Gabriel turned his eyes to the sheets again, fighting tears. âAnd when I wasnât whatever I am now, the satori couldnât get into my head. Like I said - proof, Sam. Proof so concrete you could draw chalk around it. Proof.â
Sam shook his head, but didnât seem to know what to say.
âI canât stay awake,â Gabriel muttered, because it sounded more reasonable than When you look at me like that, youâre proving my point. âCan I rest a little bit?â
Sam hesitated. âLet me wake you up in twenty minutes. Just to make sure youâre not out cold again. Then, if youâre okay - another hour, and we can take it from there.â
âFine.â Gabriel hated the idea of being shaken awake in such a short time, but hadnât the stamina to argue.
Sam helped adjust Gabrielâs position so that he was lying down, then pulled the blankets around Gabrielâs shoulders. He didnât move to leave.
If this was an instance of Sam being able to read him too easily, he didnât want to know.
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Hereâs some new fanfiction for those of you who wanted to see some (and I know some of you did). Sorry for my cat delaying the writing process by shoving her chonky little body into my lap.
Have fun with the angst that occasionally makes me question my decision to refrain from anonymity.
Part 28 of Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels because I canât stop myself. Find the full series here.
That Thursday afternoon, two days after they had left early in the morning for Missouri, Dean and Sam returned home.
Gabriel, who was aware of Samâs impending return, had left his door open so that Sam could simply enter if he wanted.
Sam knocked on the doorframe anyway. âHey.â
âHey,â said Gabriel. âNice gash on your knuckles there, soldier. You didnât even try to clean yourself up, did you?â
Sam glanced down at the offending hand. âI was distracted, I guess. And I thought it wasnât really important.â
âWhat the hell did that to you? Pennywise?â
âThe witch had a familiar. Guess sheâd trained it to go after anyone who might want to mess with her.â
âWas her familiar a saber-toothed tiger?â
âNot exactly, no.â
âA wolf?â
âNo. She had a, uh - â Sam cleared his throat. âA gerbil sheâd probably done some powerful spellwork on.â
âPerfect! Thereâs your story for any awkward silence at the next family reunion. Can I try and heal you? You got bitten like chum.â
âDefinitely not. Donât waste any of your grace on this.â
âWhether âthisâ was from the Loch Ness monster or a jacked class pet doesnât make any difference to me. Come on, get over here.â
Sam gave a sigh and stepped nearer so that he could offer his hand. Gabriel grabbed him by the wrist and examined the wound, which was no longer bleeding but evidently had not been properly sanitized.
He pressed his thumb into the jagged cut, waited a moment (Iâm gonna look like a tool if this doesnât work), and let a warm pulse of grace permeate the skin. Gabrielâs own human form crawled with gooseflesh as the surge of power rose up and then ebbed out of him.
He pulled away once the damage was no longer visible.
âLook at that!â he declared, taken aback by the pride in his voice. âNo big deal.â
Sam studied his hand and then grinned at Gabriel. âThanks. Nice work.â
âKeep away from any and all furry fiends, Sam.â A wave of exhaustion overtook Gabriel on the tail end of the sentence. âYeah, um ⊠listen, Iâm glad youâre safe and sound. And I guess maybe itâs been a long morning or something, so Iâm gonna go ahead and kick back for a good half hour or so. That sound okay to you?â
âYouâre tired because you just used up your grace.â Gabriel could see it: Sam was making a conspicuous effort not to appear perturbed. âGabe, man, you really didnât - â
âItâs not that, itâs not that; I just ⊠I just need âŠâ Gabriel rubbed his forehead. âWhatever, Iâm all right; I just want to lie down for a few minutes. You know me. Iâm like Manhattan: sexy, psychotic, and eternally sleepless.â
Sam looked concerned, but nodded. âSure. Iâll be around if you need anything.â
Once Sam had left, closing the door in his wake, Gabriel felt sleep overcome him in a way it typically didnât when he tried to fall asleep at night. His entire body was worn down, as if he had forced it to its limits over a number of hours. He almost wished he hadnât offered to heal Sam; what use would he be if something more serious came up?
But he had little time to dwell on the question, as exhaustion overwhelmed the ability to think.
He slept deeply, as he almost never did; and in the abyss of his own subconscious, he heard voices.
I canât be alone with them, I canât; I donât know them!
Shut your mouth, you spoiled little weasel. They gonâ be good to you; ainât that right, boys?
I donât know them; I donât know them!
Oh, well now, youâll get to know them soon enough. And ainât these fellas just so lucky to ignite a friendship with my favorite archangel? Sometimes I wish I could make your acquaintance all over again, boy. There ainât nothinâ like the first time.
I donât know them; I donât know them! Please, no, wait! Why wonât you listen to me? Why wonât you touch me? Stop it! Stop it! Look at me! Help me!
What happened in his dreams seemed to last hours; and indeed, when the door creaked open and a small voice called his name, the time was 5:00 P.M. - three and a half hours since Gabriel had told Sam he needed rest.
âAre you okay?â Jack called. âSam told me to come check on you.â
With the flat, bitter taste of afternoon slumber in his mouth, Gabriel sat up. His face felt warm where it had pressed into the pillow. âYeah. Yes. Apparently Sam went and got himself chewed up by a bloodthirsty hamster, and I thought it wouldnât be a big deal to try and fix it. Guess I had less in me than I thought.â
Jack nodded. âOkay. It was a gerbil, by the way. Not a hamster.â
âWhatever. Something in the category of small, furry, and unexpectedly lethal.â
âYou know how witches are. Imagine what Rowena could do with a gerbil.â
Gabriel yawned. âGuess Iâve never thought about it.â
âYouâre not shaking, are you?â
âMe? Nah.â
Jack stared at him. "I don't like seeing you like this."
"No refunds. Sorry, little guy.â
Jack watched him for a few moments, then strode over to the bed and wrapped his arms around Gabriel.
Jack pulled away, crestfallen. "Oh. I'm ... I'm sorry. I guess I thought I could help. If I had my powers, I ... maybe I could do more."
Gabriel shook his head. "Doubt it, bud. Don't feel bad, all right? This isn't about anything you're doing wrong. It's about me being too icky for you. Don't want you to get whatever disease it is I've turned into." Gabriel hadnât anticipated this bitterness, especially not in front of Jack. The rush of self-loathing had seized him without warning.
Jack's expression creased into an odd mix of horror and puzzlement. Perhaps he sensed that these words were troubling, but didnât fully understand them.
âYou go ahead and tell Sam Iâll be right out,â Gabriel said, feeling as though he had just violated his nephew in some way. âGo on, let him know. I just need to stretch, all right?â
Slowly, Jack nodded. âAre you upset because I hugged you?â
âNo! No, come on; Iâm not upset over that, or over anything else. Donât worry so much. Iâm a grown-ass angel and can take care of my own damn self. And even if I couldnât, the job isnât yours.â
Jack seemed uncertain of what to say in response, so he simply nodded again, forced a smile, and exited the bedroom.
âClose the door,â Gabriel called. âI like to get my bearings in solitude.â
âSure,â said Jack, although he sounded anything but sure.
Once the door was shut and Jackâs footsteps - lighter than Samâs, more staccato - Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. He would have liked to have been able to shake the dream off before heading into the hall, before seeing anyone else, but it stirred its way through his insides and refused to leave.
Once he had some semblance of composure, he dragged himself out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where he found Jack and Sam sitting at the table in conversation.
Gabriel was disappointed but not surprised to hear Jack say, âAnd I think something might be wrong with him, but I donât really know whatâ before both of them fell silent upon Gabrielâs entry.
âOh, hey,â said Sam. There was a mug of coffee in front of him, still steaming. âYou feeling okay? Were you asleep that whole time?â
âI âŠâ
Sam glanced at Jack, who looked troubled. âGive us a minute.â
âI donât think itâs true,â Jack said, not to Sam but to Gabriel. âItâs not true what you said about being able to take care of yourself.â He sounded bewildered.
No, Gabriel realized, He sounds hurt.
âI know when youâre not telling me the truth,â Jack said.
Before Gabriel could respond, Sam put a hand on Jackâs shoulder. âFor now, Jack. Okay?â
Jack looked back and forth between Sam and Gabriel, helpless, frustrated - and then jerked himself out of Samâs grip and left the room.
Gabriel watched him leave. Once Jack was out of earshot, he said, âKidâs messed up. My fault. He needs you more than I do.â
âNo. No, heâs all right. He just wants to help and doesnât know how.â
âWell, thatâs not how things are supposed to be.â
âSo, um âŠâ Sam sat down. He was probably expecting Gabriel to do the same, but Gabriel felt more comfortable standing up. âWhat happened? Is something wrong? Jack said - â
âI heard what Jack said.â Gabriel looked down, examining the floor.
âAre you okay?â Sam pressed.
âIâm fine.â
âYou want me to ask Jack? See if he can confirm?â
Jack, who had been sent in place of Sam; who had been given the unfortunate duty of making sure that his uncle wasnât in urgent need of help. Jack, who should have been too young to know anything of Gabrielâs pain. Jack, who was incapable of choosing for himself whether to opt in as caregiver or to step away from what he didnât know - couldnât know - was too heavy for such a naive spirit.
âNo,â Gabriel said. âI would like to humbly request that you not ask him a single freakinâ thing.â
âDid you have bad dreams?â
The images floated into the present, still warm. He saw the face of a stranger (a demon whose presence had been background noise during Gabrielâs imprisonment, but who apparently had taken up space in his memory), bloated with derision and the definite appetite that only manifested in nightmares.
âYeah,â Gabriel told Sam. âBut - I mean, thatâs, you know - â Words hummed into static as he tried to think of just what to confess, and whether he ought to say anything at all. It wouldnât necessarily do any good for either of them - and especially not for Sam, who had had only a few hours to recover from his encounter with a witch and her maniacal gerbil.
Sam gave him a moment to think before stepping in. âLook, Gabe, donât take this the wrong way, but I think I can tell when somethingâs the matter with you. Jack isnât the only one.â
âStop talking about Jack!â Gabriel snapped, and Sam blinked in surprise.
He asked, âCan I maybe do anything to help?â
Gabriel could tell that Sam feared pushing conversation, confession, or counsel. Sam wanted to know; Sam had every right to know. Gabriel owed him at least some piece of the truth. And so he said: âIâm sorry. Maybe I just missed you while you were away.â
Sam smiled at him. âYou knew I was coming back, right?â
âSure I did.â A pause, and then: âHowever, there is the minor possibility that the halfway point between âIâll be right backâ and âIâll head home once youâve taken out the trashâ got lost in translation.â
Sam didnât seem to immediately understand what Gabriel meant. When his look of puzzlement became one that Gabriel couldnât quite identify - resigned, but also horrified - Sam got to his feet and took a few steps toward Gabriel and held out the hand that, just hours earlier, had sported an ugly wound.
âOh please,â Gabriel said. âWe donât have to do this. You donât need to suckle me. Maybe Iâm just a little shaky after kicking my grace into gear. I mean, donât think Iâm not glad to have used it; your hand looks a hundred times - â
âGabriel,â Sam said, âI missed you too.â
The kitchen tilted and fogged. Sam jolted forward and caught him as Gabrielâs knees buckled, although he hadnât felt particularly weak or faint up until that moment.
Like a punch to the jaw, he thought. Enough force at once and down you go.
Sam helped him to sit at the table.
âThat was on purpose,â said Gabriel. âI was trying to do a cartwheel.â
âCan I get you some water? Some coffee? Thereâs still a lot left.â
Gabriel shook his head. âI donât need - I mean, thereâs not much to be done when everything around me is fine.â
Sam squinted at him. âHave you eaten anything today?â
âYes. Iâm all right.â He glanced away. âOr I thought I was.â
Sam hesitated for a few seconds. Then he asked: âDid you really think I wasnât going to come back?â
âNo, thatâs not what I thought.â
âHonestly, Gabriel?â
Gabriel sagged in the chair. âWhat difference does it make? My intuition isnât exactly razor-fine these days. I knew you were coming back. Youâve got family here. Youâve got every reason in the world to dust your rodent-bitten hands of whatever case, turn around, and head home.â
âYou can come with me next time, if you want.â
âNo, I - â The idea of Sam being forced to tote him around like a needy child humiliated Gabriel. âI just see everything as a landmine, thatâs all. You know what? You could tell me, âBy the way, weâre thinking of retiling the bathroomâ and my first thought would be, âHave they been hinting that Iâm supposed to retile the bathroom and I was too dense to pick up on it? Are they angry? Can I do something to make up for not retiling the bathroom? Did they run out of tasks to keep me around and are trying to think of some other use for me, or - ââ
âOkay,â Sam interrupted, âI get the picture. The important thing is Iâm back now; Iâm here, and youâre okay. Itâs all okay.â
âGreat. I can feel my troubles drifting away like spider silk on the summer breeze.â
âI know itâs easier said than believed, but that still doesnât make it less true.â
Gabriel straightened up a little. The room was no longer spinning. âSam, I know that you wouldnât just, you know, completely disappear. I know that, okay? And even if you did go AWOL, Iâve got a whole team over here; itâs not like youâd be replaced with a stranger or - or anyone who wanted to hurt me. I know that,â he emphasized, and Sam, looking concerned, didnât reply. âBut,â Gabriel added, âI think I may have fallen into a little bit of an old pattern without realizing it. And I canât really say why now, out of the blue. It isnât as if you havenât left for days at a time to do your job.â
âIs this the first time you ever felt that way when I left? Like I wasnât going to come home? Like I was going to leave you to someone else?â
âYes,â Gabriel said, before he realized that that was actually wrong. In fact, he couldnât remember an instance of Sam traveling when Gabriel hadnât been, at the very least, nervous about being left without him. âI mean, no, but I havenât had a nightmare about it. Not one this bad, not one this gruesome.â He swallowed. âI guess I was catching up on lost sleep, especially after using my grace.â
âWhatâd you dream about?â
âOh, I dreamed about Asmodeus. And about some other demon I thought Iâd maybe forgotten. One who watched over me once or twice when he - when Asmodeus - had other business to attend to. He would do to me everything Asmodeus did, only - only when he did it, it just felt different, because I didnât even know his name. I used to plead with Asmodeus not to go, but sometimes he had to, I guess, and he left me. I look back on it, and I see that he couldnât have stuck around for me all the time, but - â
âGabriel,â Sam interjected, âCan I ask you something?â
âIs it a less foreboding question than âcan I ask you somethingâ?â
âI want to know,â Sam said, âWhy you end up trying to defend him.â
âWhat? I donât do that.â
âYeah, you do. He had no right to - â
âI know, I know. He was in the wrong; I was the unwitting beaten animal. I donât want to talk about that.â
âI just donât want you to - â
âIn any case, when he left I felt exposed. When it was him, I mostly knew what to expect, even if it was just a familiar face. I remember screaming and begging with him not to leave me by myself, either with no one or with someone I didnât really know. I remember him laughing at me whenever I did that, or just pretending like he couldnât hear me.â Gabriel shivered.
Sam took his hand. âItâs okay. That wonât happen to you again.â
âYeah, I know that.â
âGood.â
âWhat are we gonna do about Jack?â
âJack? I told you, Jackâs fine.â
âNo, heâs confused. He thinks he wants to help me, and he doesnât know that he canât. Of everything thatâs eaten away at his innocence, I think I might be the biggest culprit.â
âWhat? Jeez, Gabriel, that really couldnât be farther from the truth. And anyway, I thought you didnât want to talk about Jack anymore.â
âI want to be better for him. Or I at least want him to see something that isnât this. Something that isnât me the way I am now.â
âDonât twist yourself in knots over Jack. Thereâs nothing to worry about.â
âWhy did you send him in?â
Sam frowned. âWhen? To check on you?â
âYes.â
âI donât know, I was making coffee and I thought he might like to see you.â Sam suddenly looked troubled. âThatâs really all it was. I wasnât trying to stay away from you.â
âYeah. I, uh ⊠I know.â Gabriel focused on breathing steadily - not too shallow, not too deep - and on the weight of Samâs hand. âYou get it, right? That I trust the others, I do; but I donât trust them the same way, exactly. You know? I canât help that. I try, and I canât. They care a lot; they show that they care and I like that. But it still - it feels different with you. I wish I could get everyone on the same level, Sam; itâd only be fair to you, and to them, if I could learn not to be afraid of anybody. I just donât know how to be as okay with them as I am with you. I keep trying to fight that - I keep trying to remind myself that nobody here is dangerous. And that maybe I can ask them for the same things I would come to you for. You know, after a nightmare, or when my mind goes dark. It just feels different when youâre gone, Sam.â
Sam squeezed his hand. âThatâs okay.â
âI donât - â Gabrielâs throat was tight. âIâm not - I still find Castiel sometimes, when I need help in the middle of the night. Wanna give you a break. He helps. Next to you, heâs the one who feels least like Asmodeus. I mean, thereâs Jack, of course, but heâs a different ballgame. I canât tell my brother the truth, though. I canât tell him that I donât really want him. He tries so hard and heâs a superstar. Even when Iâm awake, with him, and - and crying, or sick, I can never bring myself to tell him what Iâm really thinking. I canât explain to him that a part of why I canât really calm myself down is that I feel like I need you there.â
Sam seemed at a loss. âI donât think that would bother Cas.â
âItâs difficult; itâs confusing to need the things that I do. Itâs confusing to be this lost and out of control and dependent. I donât think Iâm handling it right.â
âThereâs no right way. No wrong way, either.â
âI appreciate the sentiment, Sam, but thatâs just plain not true. There is a whole world of wrong ways to move through this experience. Someone with more sense would know that the aftermath of something like what happened to me isnât as bad as being in the thick of it. But me, I canât seem to get the one stubborn foot out of Hell no matter how hard I pull at it.â Gabriel felt his heartbeat entwine with the knot in his throat, making it hard to breathe. âIâm not supposed to need this.â
âTo need what?â
âNot supposed to need to cry, I guess. I donât think thatâs the right way to get through this. What goodâs crying gonna do, you know? Itâs not helpful and itâs degrading.â
âItâs pretty normal, I think.â
âI donât want it to become so frequent that - that you - â As if his body was in a state of defiance, he felt tears slip down the edges of his nose. âThat you see it so much it becomes background noise. That you donât think - that you donât take it seriously. I think that was part of why he started to just turn away from me. Heâd seen me upset too many times to think anything of it.â
âJesus, Gabriel, you keep trying to make this into your fault.â
âI want you to know that when I canât - canât hold myself together, it means nothing.â
âThatâs not what I think when you cry, Gabriel.â
âAfter a while, though - â
âNo. And besides, you know how I feel about trying to keep it all inside.â
âCan we, uh - â Gabriel dragged a shaking hand across his cheeks. âCan we maybe go somewhere else? I donât want Jack to walk in and see this.â
âI can take you to my room. Can you get to your feet okay?â
Gabriel nodded and stood up, although the task proved more of a challenge than he had anticipated. Something in him was desperate not to move: he wanted to hide, to seek shelter in his own smallness.
âCome on.â Sam took his shoulder and steered him down the hall. Gabriel trained his eyes on the floor; if Jack was nearby, Gabriel wouldnât have known.
Sam shut the door behind them as they entered the bedroom. Gabriel immediately curled up on the bed, face in his knees, hands gripping his hair.
He felt Sam sit next to him. âHey, buddy, deep breaths.â
Gabriel couldnât bring himself to look up. He hated himself for what he wanted just then: more than anything, he hoped that Sam would put an arm around him, or that Sam would hold him. But Sam was probably using caution, afraid that Gabriel would recoil from touch.
I donât need that anyway, Gabriel told himself. I donât need it. I donât. I donât need that.
âNot sure if this makes any difference,â Sam said after a while, âBut try not to forget that I - that all of us - we understand what it feels like, you know. At least in some way. We all know what itâs like to want to look good for each other. All of us have been hurt pretty bad at some point. We donât need each other any less than you need me. And we know how it feels to not want to tell the truth about that.â
Gabriel turned his head so that it rested sideways on his knees and he could look at Sam, who went on: âI just want you to keep in mind that however much you donât like how things are right now, this isnât you having a weird reaction to Amsodeus. I know it feels gross, but it isnât wrong, Gabriel.â
âDoesnât really matter,â Gabriel whispered. âI feel like Iâm wrong just because of whatever it is he made me into. Iâm disgusting.â
âYouâre really not.â
âI can feel it, Sam. The feeling of just being something wrong. I donât know how to explain it.â
âYou donât have to,â Sam told him, and Gabrielâs chest tightened at the realization that Sam knew precisely the feeling he was talking about.
âI wonder what he thought when he saw me like this,â Gabriel said hoarsely. âSometimes he wasnât exactly upfront about what was going on in his mind. What did he think when he saw this diseased little rodent clawing for a split secondâs attention?â
Sam looked vaguely ill at these words. âIt doesnât matter what he thought of you.â
âIt does matter, because I want to know that you arenât thinking the same thing about me.â
âWell, I certainly donât see you as a ⊠a âdiseased rodent.â Whereâd you come up with that? Gerbil still on your mind, huh?â
Gabriel couldnât bring himself to return Samâs half-hearted smile.
âI donât see that at all,â Sam insisted. âI just see you.â
âUgh. Thatâs worse.â
âYouâre different. I see that. And I donât know if Iâll ever get used to you being so ⊠different. Not because itâs bad; not because itâs wrong. Just because itâs, you know âŠâ
âDifferent,â Gabriel muttered.
âRight. Because âdifferentâ is what happens when youâve had everything taken from you.â
Gabriel was silent.
âYouâre still Gabriel, though,â Sam reminded him.
Gabriel closed his eyes. âI donât know if thatâs what I want to be.â
âYou have a choice now. You can be Gabriel any way you like.â
Gabriel hid his face again.
So Sam saw him. He saw Gabriel. And when Sam saw this terrified, sobbing phantom of what Gabriel had once been, did he really think he was seeing the true Gabriel?
And why? Gabriel thought. Why wonât he touch me?
Samâs voice broke through once more. âAsmodeus didnât leave you with anything good, Gabriel. All he gave you was violence and fear and shame. And look - I donât know about you, but I think it makes sense that itâd take some work to get back any of the good things he kept out of reach.â
Gabriel raised his head, showcasing what he felt was probably a grotesquely tear-stained visage. âSure it does. Except that if he kept all that for so long, he must have had a reason. I donât know that I want to put up a fight for happiness I donât even deserve.â
âYou do deserve it, and you should put up a fight.â
âI donât know if I - â
âThen Iâll put up a fight,â Sam said. âOkay?â
Almost involuntarily, as if seizing, Gabriel jerked sideways and used both hands to grab onto Samâs arm. He squeezed tightly, not sure exactly what he was doing or why. It felt primitive and desperate.
Samâs features softened. âHey, hey âŠâ
âIs it okay?â Gabriel asked hoarsely. âIs it okay if I touch you?â
âOf course itâs okay.â
The bewilderment in Samâs voice served as a reminder that Gabriel was being stupid and overly cautious, that Sam definitely didnât mind touching him, ever; but the fear was present no matter how irrational Gabriel understood it to be.
In fact, he realized, it wasnât fear that plagued him as he worried about Samâs potential aversion: it was something nearer shame.
Yes, he thought, of course he was ashamed - he wasnât afraid of Sam not wanting to touch him; he was guilty that he wanted Sam to touch him when he knew that nobody should have to.
âWhatâs wrong?â asked Sam, seeing that Gabriel hadnât moved and was still clutching Samâs arm.
âI donât know,â Gabriel mumbled. âI think I might just be stupid.â
âNo! Youâre not stupid; youâre stressed.â
âI thought - you know, if you wanted to keep your hands to yourself, itâd be justified.â
âWhat? Listen, if you need something from me, Gabriel - some time to talk, or a hug - â
âI can ask, I know. But I - â
âBut you donât.â
âWell yeah, because what if you donât want me around?â
âCome on, Gabriel, I do want you around.â Sam put a hand on Gabrielâs arm and pulled him in for an embrace. âGod, youâre gonna drive yourself crazy.â
âOh, that ship left the dock a long time ago.â
They sat in silence for several minutes. Sam held onto him, and Gabriel didnât try to hug back. He just let himself lean against Sam, not speaking, not crying.
âSam,â he said finally.
âYeah?â
âPlease donât get it into your head that you canât leave to do your job. Donât ever feel guilty about not being in my immediate vicinity just because Iâm scared of my own reflection. Okay?â
âSure, Gabriel. Okay.â
âI really mean it. Donât let this change the way you operate. I came into your life by accident and you donât need to take maternity leave for something that shouldnât have thrown your life into chaos.â
Sam laughed. âI wasnât working nine to five before you showed up, Gabriel.â
âYou know what I mean, donât you?â
âI do. I get it. You donât have to worry about that; Iâm glad youâre here. I like having you around. I wouldnât say it if I wasnât being honest.â
Gabriel wasnât sure how to explain that, in some ways, it would have been easier to accept the notion that Sam was lying.
Instead, he said: âI was so afraid of him, Sam.â
âI know.â
âHe ⊠but I was afraid of being left alone, too. Sometimes. I was afraid of the other demons, the ones I didnât know. I never knew what to expect from them. They had weapons, and tricks, and insults, and - even the stupid ones were terrible; any simpleton can learn what violence is. And they watched him; they knew how to hurt me. Theyâd seen what he did to me. I was his toy and they were just happy to get a turn.â
Sam stiffened.
âSo when youâre gone,â Gabriel whispered into his shoulder, âAnd Iâm here with someone else, anyone else, a little of that just creeps on in. Thatâs all. I knew you were coming back, but I felt differently. I know Dean doesnât want to hurt me. Or Cas, or Jack. When it was just me and those two, I didnât - I knew I wasnât threatened. None of this crew have ever given me any reason to believe Iâm in danger around them. Itâs just a dumb feeling.â
Sam sighed. âNo, itâs not dumb. But youâre right: theyâre not going to do anything to you.â
âWhen heâd come back,â Gabriel added, âHe would brutalize me all over again. Taking my grace whenever there was enough to go around. Beating me until I couldnât remember my own name. Just tearing me apart in any way he could.â Gabriel shook his head. âDidnât matter how much I cried. He thought it was funny. âWhat a whiner,â heâd say. âItâs almost like you think you didnât deserve it.ââ
âGabriel, god!â
âYeah, and then heâd - you know - off heâd go, leaving me sobbing like a baby. I kept hoping heâd hear me from wherever he was; I thought maybe heâd at least pay me some attention. Even if it was just to yell at me. No one wants to be wailing into their own blood and vomit solo.
âBut it was my fault, always my fault. It was always me. I was the one whoâd said something out of bounds; I was the one who asked for something I wasnât supposed to want; I was the one who - who - â Gabriel pressed himself against Sam. âAnd if he did show up, heâd ignore me. Turn his back, go about his business. I may as well have been any soul in Hell, just radio static.
âAnd when he did notice me, when he decided to stop shutting me out, heâd just say to shut up; or sometimes, for whatever reason, he would switch things up and give me a little spoonful of comfort before finding some other reason to grab me off the floor and slam me into the wall and then hold me down so he could play.â
Sam took a shivery breath. âI - yeah. Yeah, okay. Okay.â
âSo when youâre gone, Sam, I canât always think rationally. Itâs as if maybe you want nothing to do with me, and the others - well, Samâs not here to protect this nuisance whoâs taken over our lives, so letâs get in what we can. And then itâs - itâs - if you donât come back, what am I supposed to do? Who am I supposed to trust?â
There was a pause. When Sam replied, he sounded restrained. âI really didnât think about that.â
âBecause thereâs no reason to! Because youâve got a brain that operates according to fact! Whereas mine leaps in any direction it sees fit in response to any threat, any hazard. And Sam, everything is a threat. Everything is a hazard. Compared to you, the others are strangers to me, and I donât like strangers; I donât trust them; I donât know them.â
âI would never leave you with strangers.â
âAnd you shouldnât have to leave me with anyone, Sam! Iâm supposed to be able to watch over myself like a damn grown-up! But I canât, not anymore; and who knows if the day will ever come when Iâll be able to take care of myself again? The important thing is I know you arenât leaving me with strangers. What little remains of my rational mind finds that obvious. But these old ways of thinking, they just - theyâre next to impossible for me to shake off.â
âI know.â
âThatâs all this is. Old habits. Old ways of looking at whatâs around me. Or whatâs not.â
âI guess Iâm glad you know that.â By now, Sam sounded almost as shaken as Gabriel did.
âIf I could just balance out the knowing and the feeling, everything would be a whole lot easier for every single one of us. And one thing I donât understand is âŠâ But he trailed off, afraid of saying something the wrong way, or of being misunderstood, or - worst of all - overstepping a boundary.
âWhat?â Sam asked. âWhat is it, Gabe?â
Gabriel shook his head.
Sam sighed. âOkay. All right.â
âNo, itâs ⊠all I was gonna say is that âŠâ Gabriel was glad that Sam couldnât see his face. âMaybe itâs because you were the only one who really tried, the only one who really showed a lot of concern for this deflated ragdoll of an angel that somehow ended up in your custody like a doorstep newborn. Maybe itâs just something about you, I donât know. Something you have that the others donât. Iâm not sure, Sam. All I know is I have this - this gut-based terror about losing you. Not necessarily because youâll get sick of me, but because - because - see, I donât know. I feel it when you hold me like you are right now; the idea of letting go scares me more than Asmodeus ever did.â
He was afraid to look up, but he did; and Gabriel was horrified to see that Samâs eyes were glossy with tears.
Gabriel wrenched himself away. âDonât, donât do that! Iâm not trying to make anyone more upset. Itâs not anything youâre doing wrong. Itâs not that you could be doing anything different, Sam; youâre better at handling me than anyone has any right or reason to be.â
âWell âŠâ Sam closed his eyes, gathered his composure. âRight.â
âIâm putting so much pressure on you with those words, arenât I?â Gabriel was shivering now. âIâm making you think you have to be perfect, that you have to be next to me a hundred percent of the time.â
Sam swallowed and shook his head. âNo, thatâs not what I was thinking. I just wish you didnât feel that way, is all. I wish you werenât so ⊠that he hadnât made you feel like âŠâ
âRight?â said Gabriel. âItâs hard to articulate, isnât it? I canât figure it out, and I donât know what to do with it. Wanting the - needing to be taken care of the way I do lately, and needing it to be you, and being so scared to death that you might be there one second and gone the next. I donât understand that feeling.
âThereâs time to figure it out. Stop trying to force yourself to understand everything, Gabriel. You donât have to, and itâll probably come with time.â Sam looked flushed, but his eyes were dry now.
There was a sound from the hallway: a door opening, and small, tentative footsteps. They paused outside the door, and then moved on until neither Gabriel nor Sam could hear them.
âJack came in and hugged me,â Gabriel told Sam.
âOh. Sorry about that. I did say - â
âNo, itâs all right. Iâm only bringing it up so you know you donât have to warn him not to touch me. He can touch me. If he wants to.â
âWhat about what you want?â
âI ⊠no, I just mean that maybe Iâm not ⊠not good for âŠâ Gabriel gave a frustrated sigh, still speaking into Samâs shoulder. âItâs fine.â
âI know you still worry about that.â
âAbout what?â
âI know that you worry about corrupting Jack.â
âI donât know that I ever used the word âcorrupt.ââ
âBut Gabriel, he cares about you. He looks up to you. And I know you think thatâs a bad thing, but he likes you just the way you are now. He knows youâve been through more than your fair share of trauma. Heâs seen you when youâre not feeling your best. And he still wants to be around you. Listen, Iâm not here to tell you what to do, but I really donât think you should push him away.â
âI let him hug me! Iâm not pushing him away. Iâm trying to protect him.â
âBut why? What good do you think is going to come of him seeing that youâre hurt, and walking away without any understanding of whatâs going on? Itâs better for him if he can learn how to help. Otherwise heâs going to feel like you donât trust him.â
Gabriel froze. âHas ⊠has he said that to you?â
âNot in so many words, no. He doesnât always know how to articulate himself, or whatâs frustrating him. Youâre right: in a lot of ways, heâs just a kid. And I think instead of trying to stop him seeing you like this, you might teach him that wanting to help isnât a bad thing. I just - I donât want him to get the idea that he should try not to act the way he does. Loving you, caring about you. If you tell him no, if you keep trying to make him stay away from you when you most need somebody ⊠he might get it into his head that heâs wrong to have those instincts.â
âWait, what? What does that mean? So Iâm - am I corrupting him by making it seem like itâs bad to be compassionate? Thatâs a whole new kind of crisis.â
âNot corrupting him. Just maybe sending a message that he finds confusing, since it goes against his nature.â
Gabriel considered this for a few moments.
Sam waited.
Then, finally Gabriel asked: âWhereâd he go?â
âI donât know. Back to the kitchen, maybe.â
âI guess I should talk to him, shouldnât I?â
âYou donât have to. Not right now. Just let him in when he wants to give you what you need.â
âNo, I - let me go find him.â Gabriel started to rise from the bed, but Sam gently pulled him back down.
âWhat?â Gabriel demanded. âYou think I shouldnât talk to him?â
âItâs not that,â Sam replied. âI just want to make sure youâre not mad at yourself.â
âNot any more than usual.â
âIf you go to him and say you hate yourself for âcorruptingâ him any which way, youâre both gonna miss my point.â
âPlease,â Gabriel said. âI just - I really - will you please let me talk to him?â
Sam looked pained. âIâm not going to keep you from talking to him. Itâs up to you. I just want to make sure you feel okay.â
Gabriel stood up again. âI never feel okay.â
âWhy donât I go get him for you?â Sam suggested.
âYou can do that as long as you donât give him a contract to sign about when itâs okay to touch me.â Gabriel wasnât sure why this was such a sticking point for him, but Samâs words about Jackâs natural character, and about his impulses to express affection, made it seem more logical.
âIâll get him for you,â Sam repeated. âGabriel - â
âPlease, Sam. Either you can grab the kid or I can, but I really want to talk to him.â
Sam nodded, studying him, making sure. Then he patted Gabriel on the shoulder and left the room.
Jack came in a couple of minutes later, looking nervous.
âHey, bud,â said Gabriel.
Jack raised a hand in a silent, tentative greeting.
âWanted to have a word. Sit?â
Jack sat beside him. âAm I in trouble?â
âOh, please. You sound like your uncle.â
âListen, if this is about me hugging you âŠâ
âNo, come on, kid; you didnât do anything wrong.â Gabriel worried that Jack was picking up on some of his more neurotic interpersonal habits. âI wanted to thank you. And before you ask for what, you should know that youâre ⊠youâre good, youâre a good bean; and Iâm the one who isnât doing what I should be. Iâm not - Jack, I donât mean to tell you to bug off when I know you only mean to help.â
âI know you think Iâm too - â
âI donât think youâre too anything. I think Iâm too - too me to let you get past a whole lot of nonsense. Look, I donât wanna make this more complicated than it has to be; what Iâm trying to say is that Iâm not proud of myself for swatting at you like a fly when, in a perfect world, everybody would be like you.â
âOh.â Jack looked down at his knees, thoughtful and perplexed.
âDonât try to change yourself on account of my orneriness,â Gabriel clarified. âBe nice. Be good. Be you. Youâll just have to be patient with your stubborn old uncle. Sam can tell you that Iâm difficult.â
Jack looked back up at him.
âDo you get what Iâm saying?â Gabriel asked. âI donât know how to explain it any more eloquently than that.â
Jack nodded. âI think I do.â Gabriel waited for him to explain the concept, to paraphrase what he had just been told; but Jack said nothing, and Gabriel could only assume that the message had gotten through.
Finally, Jack replied, âIâm sorry too.â
âNo - kid - Iâm trying to say you have nothing - â
âI mean Iâm sorry about what happened to you. Iâm sorry you got hurt. Thatâs all.â
Gabriel clamped his lips shut. He could only nod.
Jack stared at him, studying him, reading him like a map.
Gabriel gave a hoarse laugh. âIs there something in my teeth?â
âDo you want me to go get Sam?â Jack asked.
âNo.â
âYou looked like - â
âI always look like that. Anyway, Jack, I hope you understand - at least a teensy bit - what it is Iâm trying to explain to you. Iâm sorry that I canât wrangle a single thought into words.â
âI think I understand.â Jack hesitated, then asked: âSo how can I help? What can I do?â
âAh, I donât know; youâve already been doing everything right. Iâm the one whoâs trying to fight you on it. So just ⊠just keep doing what youâre doing.â It pained Gabriel to say it. He agreed with Sam, but he could hardly stomach the instant guilt that came with implicitly encouraging Jack to watch Gabriel struggle.
Jack smiled, and Gabriel thought he saw relief in his eyes. âOkay. Sure. Thanks.â
âOh, please. Thank you.â Gabriel felt that he ought to try and touch Jack and was ashamed that he couldnât bring himself to initiate contact.
Someday, he told himself.
Jack stood up to go. âI hope you feel better later.â
âI already do.â
âYou look - â
Gabriel held up a hand. âAgain: I always look like that.â
Sam reentered immediately after Jack made his exit. He looked tense and wide-eyed and was evidently trying to conceal his agitation. âHey.â
âIâm fine,â said Gabriel.
âDid it - â
âEveryoneâs fine, Sam.â
âListen,â Sam said, stepping over to the bed, âI really didnât mean to make you think you were doing something wrong.â
âExcept that I was doing something wrong, and Iâm old enough to learn from my mistakes, so donât apologize for straightening me out.â
âIâm not trying to make you do anything. Iâm not trying to put pressure on you, Gabriel.â
Gabriel sighed and closed his eyes. It seemed that those hours of sleep had been anything but restful. âIf you donât drag my attention to where it really belongs, nothingâs ever gonna get set right. I told you, there is a wrong way to do this. Sometimes I see it, and sometimes I donât. And if youâre going to fight me on that, if you wanna say thereâs no 'wrong' way, then how about this? Thereâs a better way.â
âWell, Jack looked calmer for sure. How about you? You feeling better?â
Gabriel considered, and then shook his head. The lopsidedness of an afternoon cleaved by turbulent slumber had left a stinging headache, and the nightmare had nested in the pit of his stomach, souring his whole body.
âMaybe you shouldnât have used your grace on me,â Sam lamented. âDonât try again for a while, okay?â
âItâs not that. I can feel that thatâs not whatâs wrong with me. Itâs what I said to you earlier; itâs me being afraid of everything.â
Sam retook his place on the bed. Although there was no way to see outdoors, Gabriel could feel the afternoon darkening into evening. Neither of them spoke.
He was painfully aware that Sam felt familiar to him. Sam was safe; he wasnât going to try and harm Gabriel. Somehow that knowledge made everything much more complicated - in part, Gabriel realized, because there seemed no way to explain the feeling without coming off as saccharine, puerile, or both.
Although he was no longer crying (however much he wanted to), Gabriel hoped Sam would touch him. He thought about asking and couldnât bring himself to say a word.
After several minutes of complete silence, Gabriel spoke. âDid you fight back?â
Sam frowned. âWhat?â
âThe hamster, the gerbil, whatever it was. Did you fight back, or was it too precious to hurt?â
âThere wasnât much I could do. It was vicious.â
âWas it? Or are you just tender-hearted?â
âGabriel, you saw what it did to my hand.â
Gabriel glanced down at the hand that had been injured. âYeah. I donât know, I feel like maybe you didnât want to hurt the little thing.â
Sam seemed amused. âWhy would you say that?â
Gabriel reached out and took Samâs hand. Sam seemed surprised, but held on firmly.
âJust because I know you,â Gabriel told him. âI know you too well.â
Part 26 (generic quip about having no life) of Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels, my angst-tastic series about what would have happened if Gabriel had survived season 13.
Shoutout to Banjo the cat for helping me write this. She pressed many a random key with her paws, and voila. A fanfic. Thanks, Banjo.
Although Sam knew that Gabriel preferred to keep himself busy, there could be no denying an underlying sense of duty.
âYou put up with me,â Gabriel had told him recently, with an air of factuality that twisted Samâs stomach. âCome on, you canât expect me to not pay my dues.â
Then he had gone back to his pile of crumbling manuscripts and continued to scrawl English translations onto a legal pad.
The attitude and dedication were not new, but Sam felt disturbed by how straightforward Gabriel could be about this sometimes: now and again, he spoke of his own burdensomeness with no emotion at all.
To Gabriel, Sam understood, that sense of being in the way could not have been more real. Once in a while, it seemed that he was simply trying to accept it - or, worse, that he already had.
One Saturday, early in the morning, Sam found Gabriel already in the library, poring over a stack of volumes which were organized in what looked to Sam like senseless chaos but which Gabriel seemed able to interpret - judging by the way he picked up one book, wrote something down, then leaned across the table to grab another and flip through its pages before readily picking up another book from what seemed an otherwise random location.
âWhy are you up so early?â Sam asked Gabriel.
Gabriel did not look up from his work. âWhy are you up so early, champ?â
âAre you, you know, all right?â
âOf course Iâm all right.â
Sam waited for him to say more. When Gabriel remained silent, Sam said, âYeah, okay,â and left.
He returned half an hour later with two cups of coffee from a few blocks away.
âHere,â he said, pushing one across the table.
Gabriel looked surprised. âHeya, whatâs this, for me?â
âYeah. You know that sort of upscale place a few blocks over?â
âIf by âupscale placeâ you mean âhipster meeting house,â then yes.â
âWell, itâs a little overpriced, but itâs good stuff. I got you a cappuccino that might taste more like a milkshake based on how much sweet stuff I asked them to mix in. Seeing as youâve been up since - â
âNever mind how long Iâve been up. Thanks; that was nice of you. But I thought you didnât like beverages in the library?â
âYeah, not when my brother is the one with the beverage. Thanks for all the work youâve been doing lately.â
Gabriel shrugged. Sam looked more closely at him.
âWhatâs wrong?â he asked.
âNothing.â Slowly, Gabriel lifted the cup and took a sip. âItâs pretty great.â But there was a peculiar expression on his face that, as Sam studied it, grew less peculiar and more familiar: the crease in his brow, the tightness of his lips.
âGabe,â Sam said.
âWhat?â Now Gabrielâs eyes were bright and hyper-alert. âWhat is it?â
Sam sat down across from him. âSomethingâs bothering you, huh?â
âNo.â
âYou donât have to talk about it, but please donât lie.â
Gabriel waved a dismissive hand. âIâm tired. Ever since that djinn managed to cop some archangel blood in Idaho last week, Iâve felt like Iâm recovering from the flu or something.â
"If you're so tired, what are you doing up?"
Gabriel didn't answer.
Sam sighed. âItâs just us, you know. I donât think anybody else is even awake.â
âOh please, Cas doesnât sleep.â
âWell, heâs not here right now, is he? Gabriel, please just donât feel like you have to hide anything.â
Gabriel closed his eyes. âThereâs some stuff thatâs hard to explain.â
âMaybe I can help if I have some idea of whatâs going through your head.â
âMaybe. But it wonât make any more sense to you than it does to me.â
âTry me.â
âItâs not just that, though. Itâs âŠâ Gabriel struggled for a moment. âItâll make me seem, um âŠâ
Sam thought about suggesting an adjective - childish, psychotic, whiny - based on the laundry list Gabriel had already given him, but decided to wait instead. Sometimes, he observed, their conversations began as morbid rounds of Mad Libs.
âUngrateful,â Gabriel finished.
Sam frowned. âFor what?â
Gabriel avoided Samâs eyes. âEverything. Asmodeus saw me as a Veruca Salt type. Never satisfied - always demanding more.â He swallowed, and Sam noticed that he had lost some color in his face. âOnce in a while, though, he would surprise me with something nice. Food, or drink, or something to keep me warm. I guess maybe he wanted to prevent future bitching from his petulant toy.â
âI donât know; sounds more like he was messing with you in some way, Gabriel.â
âMaybe.â
âWell, I donât think of you like that, you know. Neither does anyone else.â
âIf Iâd been good enough,â Gabriel continued, as though Sam had not spoken, âHe wanted to spend time with me - or so he said. He used phrases like âgood boyâ and âsweet petâ and - well, sorry if you already had breakfast. Look, Sam, the thing is, thereâs no pleasure like the pleasure of a beaten dog whose owner sidles in to stroke its bruised spine.â Gabriel paused. âExcept youâd think I would never want him near me, wouldnât you?â
Sam hesitated. âWell, yeah.â
âMm-hmm. But there was so much relief in those moments - relief at finally seeing proof.â
Sam squinted. âProof?â
âProof that what he was saying to me was true. You know, that I was lucky to be there with him - because he was the only one who knew what was good for trash like me. And because he was the only one who knew what that trash was good for. It was a healthy reminder that if I wasnât his plaything, Iâd be useless. And âŠâ Gabriel broke off, making a conscious effort to slow his breathing. âIt was my rightful place, Sam. Well - I know now that it wasnât, but how was I supposed to figure otherwise when I was still down there with him?â
Sam wondered if Gabriel really did know otherwise now, but dismissed the thought.
âAnd,â Gabriel barreled on, âThe euphoria of his affection was always punctuated by a sense of - of âDonât screw this up, Gabriel, not now that heâs shown he can love you.â But of course I always did find a way to screw things up. There was no pleasing the guy for more than a handful of hours at a time.â Gabriel lowered his eyes, surveying the coffee cup in front of him. âI tried harder at that than Iâve ever tried at anything else, Sam. Chalk it up to having no grace, no power. Or ⊠or maybe I was just that bad at being good enough.â
âHey.â Sam softened his voice. âI didnât bring you the coffee because I want you to do anything for me.â
âI get it, I get it; youâre no Asmodeus. You really think I deserve good things.â Gabrielâs smile was cold. âSam, do you really want to know what shot through my head when you brought this in?â
Sam nodded.
âI - â But Gabriel paused. Seconds ticked by. Then he said, âI donât know. It doesnât make sense even to me.â
âWere you afraid, maybe?"
âI donât think so, no.â
He was right, Sam thought: Gabriel did not look frightened. This time, there was something else laced through his features, something Sam had been meaning to bring up for a while.
Tentatively, Sam spoke. âHey, um, Gabriel - do you remember that night a few weeks ago, where you woke up from the nightmare?â
âOh, you mean that one nightmare I had that one night, that one time, amid countless hours of dreamless slumber?â
Sam sighed. âWhen you woke up screaming and everybody came running in.â
âNo, Sam. Please, paint a more vivid picture so I can add it to my scrapbook.â
âWell, do you remember how I asked you if you ⊠you know ⊠if you missed Asmodeus?â
Gabriel bristled. âYes. I remember that.â
âI mean âŠâ
Gabriel kept his gaze averted.
âGabriel,â Sam said quietly, âSometimes I have the sense you wish that ⊠that he could be the one to come and help. Not me.â
Gabriel shut his eyes. âDo you have any idea how that makes me sound?â
âUm ⊠sad?â
âNo. Thankless.â
âYouâre still worried about being ungrateful?â
âUh, yeah, no shit.â
âIâm not accusing you of doing anything wrong. I get it - sort of. I mean, he did give you everything you had, right?â
Gabriel barked what sounded less like laughter and more like a shriek of terror. âAnd he made mighty sure I knew it. Sam, I donât want Asmodeus - I want you.â
In that moment, Sam thought he finally understood why Gabriel was disturbed and disgusted by the word âwant.â There was something horrendously, nauseatingly powerful about how it sounded coming from Gabriel's mouth.
âLook,â said Gabriel, âItâs just - I - his love was in short supply, and he wasted it on me time and again, and I - I let him down.â
âHe didnât love you, Gabriel.â
âDon't, Sam. Don't say that, all right? I donât like when you tell me he didn't love me.â
âIâm sorry, Gabe, but itâs true. You canât think of his treatment as love.â
Gabriel turned away, but not before Sam saw tears in his eyes.
âCrap,â Sam whispered. âIâm sorry. Itâs just that I donât want you to think that the way he handled you is the way you deserve to be treated, thatâs all.â
Gabriel shook his head and muttered something.
âWhat?â asked Sam.
Gabriel cleared his throat. âUm - I failed him.â
âNo you didnât.â
âI tried to be enough.â Gabriel seemed to be speaking more to himself than to Sam now. âI tried to be worth what he was offering.â
Sam reached out and took Gabriel's hand. It was an old gesture of comfort, one that Gabriel almost never rejected - and he didnât now. âCan you listen to me for a second?â
Without looking at him, Gabriel nodded.
âYou could tell me anything at this point, I think - and weâd find a place for it in everything else weâve had to work through. Okay? If you came to me to say you hate him or miss him or whatever - I mean, I never felt anything like that for Lucifer. I canât say I ever once felt like I missed him. But all that means is that Lucifer is different from Asmodeus, and Iâm a little different from you.â
âSure, if by âdifferentâ you mean - â
âI donât mean âbetter.â I mean different.â Sam squeezed his hand, half-hoping that Gabriel would reciprocate and feeling disappointed when he didnât. âYou need to let me know whatâs going through your head even if I might not totally get it. Iâm - Iâm a little confused, maybe, but not shocked. I donât have expectations about what youâre going to feel. Whatever youâve got going on is just part of everything else, okay? Please just - just donât be scared to bring it up. Even if you were to come to me and tell me you hated me, we could make it fit. We could figure it out.â
All at once, Gabriel went white and jerked his hand out of Samâs. âI donât hate you!â
Sam blinked, startled.
âI donât hate you!â Gabriel repeated. âIn what universe would I claim to hate you? Where did that come from?â
âNowhere! Iâm just saying you could confess something super weird and weâd still - â
âI donât hate you! Do you think I hate you?â
âNo, Gabriel. Thatâs not what I think.â Sam tried to sound soothing, but the truth was that Gabrielâs reaction might be the exception: Sam was not, in that moment, sure how to incorporate it into the bigger picture.
âI didnât want to make you think I hated you,â Gabriel insisted. âJesus, thatâs why I didnât want to tell you about this; I didnât want to say anything because Dad knows it makes me sound like the spoiled brat Asmodeus always told me I was!â
âGabriel - â
âMissing him is betraying you, and I know that; but not missing him is betraying him! Not that Iâm worried about that, but - or I am, I think; I mean, I shouldnât be, but - see, paying any mind to his feelings is pointless, but those moments of - of peace or safety or love or - Sam, they were important.â
âOkay. Hey, hey, listen, buddy - this isnât about what you owe me. That was your home for a long time, so I get where youâre coming from. Home is home, even if it sucks. Donât be so angry with yourself over it.â
âPlease donât use that word.â Gabrielâs voice trembled. âPlease - donât try and talk to me about home, okay? Because sometimes I think I want to go home, and then I remember that I have no clue where home is supposed to be - in Hell, maybe, as ludicrous as that sounds; or I guess having no home at all feels more like home than anything else.â
âWait,â Sam interjected, âYou think you donât have a home?â
âAh.â Gabriel held up a hand. âPause. Footnote: there is no consensus among the many factions of my conscience as to whether I have an obligation to make this my home, or if I owe it to all of you to resist the temptation to let myself feel any such thing.â
Before Sam could reply, a new expression passed over Gabrielâs features, one that could not have been mistaken for anything but grief. His face took on the taut, ruddy sadness that Sam had only ever witnessed at memorials.
Slowly, Sam shook his head. âYou donât owe us that. Or anything else.â
Gabriel wiped his eyes. âYeah, Sam. I do.â
âAnd you shouldnât expect yourself to be able to pilot what you do and donât feel about Asmodeus.â
âIâm not allowed to hope that things will at least make sense? No, of course not. I donât know what Iâm doing. Maybe I expect everybody else to know. Obviously I anticipate that youâll have all the answers. Another example of just how right he could be about me.â
âWhat? What are you talking about?â
âYeah. Spoiled brat, remember?â
âGabriel, dude ⊠you start going on about yourself like that, youâll get worked up.â
âBecause as you can clearly see, I couldnât be any damn calmer.â Gabriel scrubbed a hand forcefully, violently, back and forth against his tear-stained cheeks. âIâm stating facts. Picture it: me, feeling anything like grief for him when I have so much more now? That tells you more about me than you should ever have to know. It speaks volumes. Nothing is ever good enough for me, and - and Iâm not good enough to make up for always wanting more.â
Sam could now recognize the warning signs in Gabrielâs face - harbingers of delirious panic brought on by memories too heavy to swallow. He saw the pallor, the beads of sweat, the clenched jaw, and owlishly bright eyes.
âCalm down,â he told Gabriel, trying to sound firm without posing a threat. âYouâll make yourself sick if you donât. Okay?â
âHmm,â Gabriel offered.
âYouâre safe, Gabe. You have to remember that.â
âYou know what pisses me off more than anything else right now? What really, really pisses me off?â
âYeah?â
âThat Iâve already got myself too damn sick to even try drinking the coffee you brought. So there you have it; youâve wasted time and resources on an undeserving son of a - â
âYou can have it later, when youâre ready.â
âI was happy to have it, and then I just - I - I went and screwed things up again.â
âYou really didnât.â
âSam âŠâ Gabriel lowered his head and ran both hands through his hair. âI ⊠man, I like to think I have more good days than bad. Since imagination is fun and healthy, and I love to walk the deliciously tender line between being an optimist and being a bullshitter.â
âNobodyâs keeping tabs on how many bad days you have. And backsliding is normal. Not ideal, I guess. But normal enough.â
Gabriel snorted. âGreat. Feels good to know that everything happening right now is par for the course and I should just roll with it. Sam, this does not feel like it should be normal. Ever. In any context.â
âThen let it be a new version of normal."
âJesus Christ,â Gabriel muttered. âYou know what, Sammy? Let me tell you something about this ânew normal.ââ
âIâm listening.â Truthfully, however, Sam was not sure he wanted to hear. Gabriel didn't sound like he intended to offer any uplifting anecdotes.
âThe other night,â Gabriel began, âI had another stupid dream. But this time weâre talking actually stupid, okay? Not just bad, but total gibberish. And when I jerked awake after this circus, I tried to talk myself down: âYou know your crippled semi-human psyche is playing unpalatable games with itself. Relax, sergeant; take a breath and shimmy your sorry ass back into the present.â Well, guess freakinâ what, Sam? It didnât work. I felt frozen and sick and terrified, no matter how hard I wrestled with myself over it. I was so scared just by this flash fiction that had nothing to do with anything at all.â
âWhat was it?â Sam asked apprehensively.
âA piece of crummy abstract art. There was a shadow on the wall, some formless dark shape with a whole slew of possible identities. One second I felt like maybe I was seeing Dean, then Castiel, and even Jack for a split second there. Not you, though - never you.â
âGood.â
âYeah, absolutely fabulous. Except that that meant I wanted you. I wanted you immediately. I had this feeling that each one of the others was evil, corrupt, gruesome - hungry for some Gabriel meat. So when I woke up, all I wanted was you. I wanted you so damn much, Sam.â
Samâs blood ran cold. âWhy didnât you come get me, then?â
âWell, because all through this titillating romp into dreamland, I was thinking that as much as I was dying to call for help, I had no right to pester you. You didnât need extra demands from your pesky houseguest. The last thing you deserved - and before you get on my case about it, this is just what was going through my head as I was dreaming; I couldnât stop it - was Little Orphan Archangel to come whining to you about how the people you loved and trusted were out to get me.â
âI wouldnât have - â
âSo when I woke up, you think I was ready to drag you into my umpteenth midnight meltdown? You needed sleep. And me, having no dignity, no control, not an ounce of self-respect - I curled up in bed and started bawling and then I squealed your name over and over again into my knees as if I expected your spidey senses to tingle and youâd come to rescue me from my own dadforsaken self. But there was also a very real possibility - or at least it felt real, youâve got to understand that - that Iâd go looking for you, and youâd be rightfully pissed off that I hadnât allowed this shadow bitch to take me away.â
Sam stood up. Alarm flickered across Gabrielâs face. But then Sam crouched in front of him and said, âThat kind of thing, Gabe? That kind of thing where youâre actually hurting yourself just to save face, or because you have it in your head that you shouldnât be allowed access to compassion?â He cleared his throat in a hasty attempt to keep himself together. âThat counts as an emergency. Always. Even if it happens ten times a day.â
Gabriel looked discomfited. âSam - â
âDonât sit there and let him do that to you. Please. When that happens, you need help and you canât afford to pretend you can wait for it.â
âI - â Gabriel turned his face away. âSam - â
âWhat? What about that sounds so impossible to you?â
âItâs - itâs like Iâve said, I canât live up to what youâre looking to get from me.â
âGabriel, for the last time, Iâm not looking for you to give me anything!â
âNo, you are; you want me to heal, and I donât know if I can. I certainly donât have it in me right now - not yet.â Sam saw tears in his eyes. âAnd Iâm sorry for that. Iâm a tough nut to crack open and I get that. I exhaust you, though. Now, thatâs partly on you for feeding into this idea that you can make me better, but mostly Iâm just a difficult patient. I keep fighting your efforts.â
âYouâre not putting up a fight with me. Youâre fighting Asmodeus.â
âOh yeah? If Iâm working so hard to get him off my conscience, then riddle me this: why the hell should I feel anything other than total revulsion for him? Why is it that I think to myself, âIâm terrified and alone and I hope he shows up to helpâ? I couldnât justify that if you paid me. And you canât make this shit up, Sam. This is raw nonsense straight from the mind of a lost cause.â
âYouâre allowed to grieve. I canât say I understand; I havenât been there. But it isnât weird that youâd miss him sometimes.â
âYeah, well, maybe it wouldnât be weird if you didnât happen to be around.â
âYou had him for hundreds and hundreds of years. And he was the only thing you had. He was everything to you.â
Gabriel groaned. âWhen you put it that way, it sounds so gross. It really does.â
âYou canât just replace everything you had with something new, and expect it to feel like home. At least not right away.â
Gabriel kept his gaze averted. No further tears had spilled from his eyes, although Sam could tell that, if Gabriel was going to put up a real fight, it was in response to the urge to cry.
âPlease,â Sam said. âPlease donât keep yourself locked away when you wake up like that, or when you feel like somethingâs wrong. Iâm right here; weâre all right here. Weâll connect the dots where we can, okay? But come on - I mean, who even really cares? Itâs a language - sort of. Or not. Maybe just a bunch of made-up words that we can use to create a language of our own. Can we look at it that way?â
Gabriel jerked his head - not quite a nod, not quite a refusal. âImpressively well fleshed-out for an improvised metaphor, Sam.â
âI really hate the picture you just painted. I hate that you didnât go looking for someone, anyone, just because you were afraid of being a nuisance.â
Gabriel shook his head. âI - Sam, I couldnât get anybody else. It had to be you.â
âSo I wouldâve helped you.â
âAnd are you forgetting the very real possibility that it could have reminded you of your own experience in the pit?â
âI guess it could have, sure. It didnât just now. But even if it did, can we maybe not pay that any attention unless it actually becomes an issue? For now, I want you to worry about yourself - not about me.â
âPerfect. Seeing as Iâve been provided explicit instructions to avoid worrying about you, itâs smooth sailing from here on out. Thanks, Sam. Now I donât have to concern myself with whether or not youâre keeping your own head above water. And if the message isnât clear, let me translate: shut up and let me care about you, you self-effacing dingleberry.â
âIâm serious. In moments like that, you have to put everything else on hold; youâve got to look for help first thing. Like I said, itâs an emergency. Imagine if it were Jack. Youâd want to - â
âStop right there. Donât put that image in my head, and donât compare Jack to me. Heâs an entirely different species, Sam, and Iâm not just talking about his human DNA.â
Sam raised his eyebrows. âOkay?â
âHeâs not me, heâs nothing like me; thereâs nothing wrong with that kid. I donât even like that he has to breathe the same air as me - so donât insult him by pretending like the two of us deserve the same treatment.â Gabrielâs face was flushed. âAnd now I canât shake that scenario you just threw into my brain and itâs making me feel like I have to puke.â
âIâm sorry,â Sam told Gabriel, and meant it: he didnât like the vision either. After a momentâs consideration, he decided not to address some of the more problematic themes wrapped in Gabrielâs protestations. So he went on, âIt doesnât matter to me how many times you find yourself in that position, okay? Itâs just as important if it happens once a week or every night for a month, Gabriel. I promise one of us can help, and if it has to be me then get me right away. Text me if you have to; I keep my phone next to my bed. You wonât get better if you keep this up. You wonât heal if you let these feelings just rot inside of you.â Samâs knees were aching from his crouched position, so he stood up again and sat back down, this time in the chair beside Gabrielâs. âYou donât need to abuse yourself the way he did. Asmodeus wasnât giving you love or anything else that you needed. And now youâre hurting yourself more by throwing away the real thing because you think you shouldnât have it.â
Gabrielâs face was hard and closed-off, but the tears finally slipped free and he turned further away in a limp attempt to conceal them.
Not even sure where the question was coming from, or why he was asking it, Sam said: âWhatâs scaring you?â
He anticipated silence, or a tense âNothing.â So he was taken aback when Gabriel replied, âIâm waiting for your speech. Your tactful âyou and I both know itâs time for you to leave the Bunkerâ speech.â
Sam balked. âExcuse me?â
âNo oneâs accusing you of intent to actually do it,â Gabriel told him. âIâm just answering the question: thatâs what Iâm afraid of.â
âIâm not - â
âI know. Iâm still scared of it, and Iâm sorry about that.â
âNobody here wants you to leave. Especially not me. I want you to stick around until you get sick of us.â Sam wondered if Gabriel could hear the tightness in his own throat. âIâm not changing my mind about that because you feel like you miss Asmodeus; I can be better than he was.â
âYou think I donât know that already? Iâm sad, not simple. But that's just the issue: youâre providing your best, and Iâm not taking it like I should be. Come on, doesnât it make you feel just a little bit unappreciated to hear me say âI wish Asmodeus could be here to helpâ?â
âNo, but it makes me worry about how bad he screwed with your mind.â
Gabriel didnât reply, and Sam didnât press him. In the distance, he could hear people moving around - probably Dean getting coffee, or Jack getting cereal, or both of them.
âListen,â Gabriel said finally, âI hope you know I can see the difference. Youâre not him; you couldnât be any less like him. Youâd never, ever do to me what he did to me, and I hate that, and I love that. Itâs just that he did give me something - something I donât know how to describe, if it wasnât love. I wish he hadnât played those games with me, but he did; he played them like they were guitar picks and I was an out-of-tune six-string. And youâve gotta understand - what was I supposed to do, you know? When I got those glimpses of kindness? How could I not give in and just - just be happy about them? How could I not be scared to death that he would change his mind? And how could I not hate everything about myself when he inevitably made it clear that that kindness had been a mistake?â
Sam realized he couldnât speak, so he only nodded.
âBut,â Gabriel pleaded, âI donât want him. I donât want Asmodeus, Sam; I want you.â
Sam swallowed. âGood. Because Iâm here.â He cleared his throat. âHey - since youâre in the swing of it, what else do you want right now?â
Gabriel leaned away. âWhat?â
âRight now. What do you want? Tell me.â
Gabriel floundered. âI - um. Nothing.â
Sam waited.
âUm,â Gabriel stammered, âThe coffee, I guess.â
Sam passed it to him. âMight be cold.â
âI donât care. But, uh - â
âYou want something else?â
âNo.â
âYou were going to ask.â
âI âŠâ Gabriel shuddered. Sam had the urge to wrap a blanket around him. Perhaps after this he would offer to take him back to Samâs own bedroom and let him get a few hours of sleep there.
Gabriel opened his arms.
"Oh," said Sam, and leaned forward.
Gabriel didn't speak, but he did relax into the embrace.